


Sacrilege

by 13thDoctor, JHarkness



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Aging, Alcohol, Alternate Canon, Bad Cooking, Bar Room Brawl, Blood Drinking, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Bonding, Canon Compliant, Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Cassidy/Tulip friendship, Church Sex, Cuddling & Snuggling, Depression, Domestic Fluff, Drinking, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Fix-it, Episode Related, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Immortality, Jesse whump, Knives, M/M, Making Love, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Murder, Mutual Pining, Naked Cuddling, Non-Explicit Sex, PWP, Panty Kink, Past Drug Addiction, Pining, Post-Canon, Religion, Resolved Sexual Tension, Road Trips, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Sharing a Bed, Shotgunning, Sick Character, Smut, Team Bonding, Team as Family, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vampires, Violence, Vomiting, Voyeurism, Whump, oblivious Jesse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-16 06:09:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 25,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7255663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13thDoctor/pseuds/13thDoctor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JHarkness/pseuds/JHarkness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Tumblr prompts to fuckyeahjessidy. Prompts are written and added as they are received.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You Always Liked the Taste of Blood

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter covers three different prompts: "Feeding fics, I need more feeding fics. That is all," "Cassidy fucks up and like nearly rips himself in half or some shit. Bottom line he needs blood. Jesse offers," and "Cass hasn't fed in a while and starts lookin poorly so Jesse lets him feed off of him. Things escalate, that's what these things do, they escalate."

“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” Cass yelled, head pounding. He tried to shift, to touch the blood he could feel running down his forehead, and was met with a ripping sound and burn of pain. “Fuck!” He shouted again, because there was nothing else he could do. Cassidy was well and truly stuck, the metal of the truck’s fender lodged through his stomach. The truck itself was totaled; it sat some ten feet away, upturned, with smoke pluming from the engine into the twilight sky. Thanking whatever God he could that it was still dark, Cass attempted to shift again. His intestines grabbed the sharp metal, and he bit back a scream. Blood was pouring from him in beautifully dark pools.

Cass vaguely registered a voice calling his name, but he felt near unconsciousness the way only a flask of his own invention and a line of good heroin gave. Blinking, he coughed, and felt wetness on his lips. This was it, then. He was going to burn when the sun came up, drunk and dying and in halves from a fucking pickup truck in Texas.

Jesse’s pickup truck.

The realization made him start, gulping in the cold night air as he looked around wildly. Jesse’s truck, wrecked, and him, wrecked. “Jesse?” He asked, but it was more a gurgle as the name caught in the blood in his throat. The thought of the preacher in that truck was enough for him to ignore the bite of the gravel and shrapnel, so Cass tore himself from the fender again. This time, he couldn’t hold back the scream, especially as he watched his body shred to pieces.

A white light broke behind Cassidy’s eyes, and he laughed, chest rising and falling rapidly. “Imma fuckin’ die ‘ere. Fuck.” He felt his eyelids drifting shut. He needed blood.

“No you’re not, Cass. Cass, look at me.”

Cassidy cocked his head, blinking. Jesse’s voice was far away, his figure blurred. But Cass could feel the warmth of his calloused hands against his bloody cheek, could feel the pain fading as Jesse’s fingers traced his flesh. He nestled his cheek against a hand, figuring he might as well enjoy the hallucination for all it was worth.

“Cass, stay with me now.”

“Ehe, not a problem, mm–yeah.”

“Cass.” Jesse’s hands were suddenly firm, and the pain all too real. Cass felt the snapping of bones and joints back into place and cried out, digging his palm into the preacher’s shoulder. His mind worked rapidly to recall the event that brought him here, but every moment felt too broken. A kiss. A fight. Jesse out of the truck, Cass going too fast, a decline and one too many shots–

“Jess?” Reaching for the other man, he settled for a palm against his neck. His face was in focus now. There was no panic written on it, simply determination. Something else Cassidy couldn’t place. He smiled.

“S’no good, Padre.” Bandaging wounds, setting bones, removing debris. A warm body was the only solution, and Cass had no desire to take Jesse’s life for his own. He would die for the other man, if he could. And without blood, it was becoming a more realistic thought every moment. Jesse growled. Cassidy weakly pushed him away, but his eyes were soft. “Lookit, I said s’no good.” His teeth worried at his lip. If he had much stomach left, he figured it would be knotted. As it was, Cass resolved to watch Jesse. His hard lines were fading, replaced with something younger, pained. He turned to look at the endless road.

“You need a hospital. I–I called an ambulance,” he muttered, but without conviction. Cassidy needed help sooner that that, and an ambulance wasn’t going to pack his organs back in his broken body. Jesse’s shoulder slumped.

“I need blood, yeah,” Cassidy reciprocated, poking at an exposed rib.

Jesse turned back to Cass, jaw set. “What type?” Cassidy snorted and let his head fall back, neck exposed.

“Any type.”

“Come on, Cass!” Jesse jumped up, tossing his arms in the air with a huff of annoyance. He didn’t look at the other man until his hands were back down at his hips, fingertips twitching.

“Padre, come on. I should be dead already, ha. You know what I mean.”

“You’re not a fucking vampire, Cass.”

“Tell that to the blokes I sucked dry.” He laughed, shoulders shaking and mouth set in a wide, toothy grin, but Jesse wasn’t amused.

“Be serious.”

The laughter stopped. Voice deeper, Cass gestured for Jesse to lean down again. “Oh, boy-o, I am.” He grabbed Jesse’s arm and pulled it to him, never breaking eye contact. His lips were parted, soft breaths evident only by the slight lifting of his chest. Cassidy brought the preacher’s wrist to his lips, forcing Jesse to his level again.

Jesse knelt on both knees in front of him, eyes wide as Cassidy kissed the inside of his wrist. When he bit down, Jesse barely made a sound, just sucked in a breath between his teeth and tensed. He drank barely anything before drawing back, passing his tongue over Jesse’s soft skin once first; however, he could feel the scrapes and bruises on his head, which had taken the least of the impact, heal. Jesse couldn’t help but gasp then, eyes flicking between his hand and Cassidy’s face. Cassidy watched him with curiosity, licking the last of the blood from his teeth–

Until Jesse’s mouth was on his, and he was licking _his_ teeth, body screaming at being unable to move, to hold the other man close. Cassidy’s one usable arm fisted in Jesse’s shirt, keeping him close enough to kiss but away from his own body’s gore. He tasted like whiskey and worry.

When Jesse pulled away, there was blood on his lips, and Cass almost fainted.

“So you’re a vampire?” He whispered it as if they weren’t the only two people for miles.

“From Dublin.”

Cassidy smirked, tightening his grip on Jesse. He moved to kiss him again, because fuck if he was going to his grave without tasting those lips again, but Jesse resisted. Loosening his grip immediately, Cass felt a sharp pang in his gut that had nothing to do with the fender.

“So feed on me,” Jesse said, so low Cassidy almost didn’t hear him. Moving closer, he tilted his neck back and twisted his fingers in Cass’ hair. The steady pulse of his veins was intoxicating, and Cassidy felt his skin prickling.

“I don’ want to hurt ya, Jess,” he begged, voice hoarse.

“You won’t.”

Cassidy brought his teeth to Jesse’s neck, swallowing down the panic rising in his chest. He would stop, because he wanted to, because he could, because he loved…

He pushed that thought to the back of his mind and bit.

Jesse yelped, body flinching involuntarily. Cassidy paused, feeling blood running down his throat. It took every ounce of his focus not to drain the other man, so alive, warm, and willing. But Jesse wrapped his arms around Cass’ shoulders and pulled him forward, out of the rest of the metal and into his lap. So he resumed his feeding, sucking carefully at Jesse’s neck. The sound was punctuated by his own soft groans.

Jesse moaned, eyes closed. Cass was determined to have him make that sound again when they found their way off the road. Humming, Cassidy felt his stomach closing–pulled together with a sucking sound not unlike the one he himself was making–accompanied by the mending of sundry fractures. He opened his eyes to Jesse’s pale and sweating face.

Cassidy snapped back, apologies falling from his scarlet lips. He sat up enough to straddle Jesse, fingers tracing his ashen cheeks and lips. Pressing a single chaste kiss to his mouth, Cass pulled the last of the shrapnel from his body. But his eyes kept straying to the rivulets of blood on Jesse’s neck, running from two holes on his neck. Steeling himself, Cass ran his tongue over the streams, spreading saliva to seal the wounds. Jesse grunted, eyes fluttering open. His hand found Cassidy’s and squeezed.

“I told you,” he mumbled, kissing a path on Cassidy’s jawline to his ear, “you were gonna’ make it.”

“Now we have to worry ‘bout you, Jess.”

“You, too.”

He was right. Cassidy looked down at himself; he wasn’t completely healed, just mostly functional. And Jesse was losing consciousness beneath him. Cassidy didn’t think he could carry the preacher to the hospital in the state he was in, not to mention the nearness of the sunrise.

Something bright caught his eye, and he looked up. Blue and red lights danced in the distance. “Holy shite,” he gasped. “Jess.” The preacher followed his gaze to the ambulance and grinned.

Then he passed out.

“Aw, Jesus,” Cass breathed, catching his head against his chest. He stood carefully, body still bruised and broken, and brought Jesse with him. He wrapped his arm around his waist, shoulder tucked beneath Jesse’s chin for support. The ambulance approached at a frustratingly slow pace, sirens off.

“Any day now, boys,” Cass shouted when they finally reached the pair, grunting when the effort made his torso burn with sharp pain. But only one EMT stepped out, and he was a boy–Cassidy realized he couldn’t have been much over 21, probably right out of some local program and into the job. The kid helped them into the ambulance, hooking Jesse to an IV and motioning for Cassidy to lie down in the gurney to be examined.

Cassidy almost felt bad when he dragged the kid out of the vehicle and drained him. Almost.

Fully recovered, he pulled the body to the wreckage of the truck. Jesse was still passed out when he returned to the ambulance. He closed the doors and got into the driver’s side, smiling at his friend.

They never made it into the hospital. Cassidy drove the ambulance there, and, grateful for a shift change, left it in the lot. In his arms, he held two IVs, a few bags of blood, and Jesse Custer

 

**…**

 

Jesse woke three hours later, early morning light just starting to enter his bedroom. His gaze fell on the IV still in his arm, and then to the hand gripped tightly in his own. Cassidy slept soundly in a chair beside him.

It was almost endearing, if not for the blood drying on his neck and chest. And legs. Cass was covered in blood, a mixture of his own and Jesse’s, and, the preacher assumed, the EMT’s. Jesse laughed, a quick, shocked sound. He pulled the IV out of his arm without hesitation, sitting up. His head swam a little, but it was no worse than a hangover earned by a usual night with his friend. A usual night.

Nothing about the previous night had been usual. They’d been on their way to a new bar a town over after being banned from Annville’s, and Cass told Jesse that he wanted to go to the brothel. He’d felt irrationally pissed at the time, confused by the swell of jealousy, and stopped the truck. They had argued, Cass had shut him up with a kiss. And then Jesse had jumped out of the truck, confused and wired and angry, and Cassidy drove away. He’d watched as Cass sped out of control, hit the edge of the road, and tipped the truck. And it had been his fault.

“Oi, what’re you thinkin’ Jess?” Cassidy asked, one eye open. Jesse jumped a little, roused from his thoughts, and the other man giggled at him. “Ha, Sleepin’ Beauty, get back in t’at bed,” he ordered, nudging Jesse with his foot.

Jesse pursed his lips but did as he was told, reclining so that he could still look at Cassidy.

He waved vaguely to Cass’ soiled clothing. “You should clean that.”

Cassidy lifted an eyebrow. “You jus’ pointed to all a’ me.”

“Yeah.”

Smirking, Cass stood and stretched. “Alright.” He pulled what was left of his shirt over his head, and then stepped out of his pants. He was looking anywhere but at Jesse, even though his body was hyper-aware of the other man’s presence. Naked, he stood staring at the sheets and tossed his clothes at the door.

Jesse could only nod, mouth open as he gaped. Cassidy was all lean muscle and bone, not a scar on him but looking like he should have many. His tattoos were dark and intriguing against his pale skin, covering his shoulders, arms, chest, hands. Jesse wanted them under his tongue.

He sat up more, chin tilted up in invitation. Cassidy stepped over to the bed with a half-smile on his face. “Wan’ ta take me up on that offer to suck ya dry, huh?”

“Something like that.”

Jesse pulled Cassidy to him, hands roaming his body before he was fully in the bed. Cassidy moaned, hips rubbing over Jesse’s greedily. He sucked at his earlobe, nape, collar. Jesse pushed his pants to his knees while Cassidy worked at his shirt, making an effort to unbutton rather than rip. He followed the fastenings down, tongue finding each scar and groove in the preacher’s skin. His teeth made shallow bites in his flesh, a reminder that he could tear Jesse apart if he wanted.

Jesse had never been more turned on.

They spent the hours of the morning exploring one another, learning each touch and sound. When they were finally spent, Cassidy kissed Jesse until he couldn’t breathe, chasing the feeling like the last drag of a cigarette.

“What was that for?” Jesse asked, kiss-crushed lips pulling into a smile.

Cass shrugged. “Just you, Jess. Just you.”


	2. Kiss Me Quick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: How's about a risky kiss? Maybe semi-public, like knowing Emily is just the other side of the door, free to walk in on them at any moment?

In hindsight, Jesse realized that of all the bad ideas he had ever had, this probably ranked high among them.

 

Emily had invited him over for dinner while he had been on the church’s reception room couch, smoking with Cassidy. Well, “on” was a strong word; his arms were resting on the edges of the cushions, pressed flush against Cassidy’s naked thighs. They were passing a cigarette back and forth, a sorry replacement for each other’s lips. A heavy, yet not uncomfortable, silence was between them--it was a sharp contrast to the sounds that had recently filled the room.

 

The phone’s irritating wail broke that silence, and it took many rings before Jesse tore himself from his lover, a deep sigh falling from his lips. He answered slowly, eyes never leaving Cassidy. The other man was somehow staring and not staring at him, smoke billowing from his cheeks. A soft smile graced his features, devoid of the callousness he usually wore.

 

“All-Saints Congregational,” he answered, voice gruff. He coughed, one hand over the receiver.

 

“Jesse? I followed this new recipe and made way too much food for me and the kids. I was wondering if you’d want to come over for dinner, help me not have so many leftovers?”

 

Jesse considered for a moment, eyes trailing down Cass’ pale and tattooed skin. But he had a duty to the community, and that meant to Emily. “Sure.” He scratched his head, glancing around the room for his clothes. They were scattered haphazardly, and he was sure his shirt was still in the pews somewhere. “Give me… A bit.”

 

“Be over at six.” She promptly hung up, voice lifting a bit on the last word in anticipation. Jesse stared at the phone before replacing it, a hand still absentmindedly pulling at his hair.

 

“Want to go to dinner?” He shouted to the other room, tone casual.

 

“Dinner’s right ‘ere,” came a languid voice. Jesse couldn’t tell if Cassidy motioned to the vodka on the table beside him or himself; he decided it very well could have been both. The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk, and he sauntered back over to the other man with half a mind to forget about the invitation.

 

Instead, he’d convinced Cass to go with him--though not without extreme creativity. Creativity that brought them to Emily’s doorstep at 6:15, disheveled and still a little drunk off hard liquor and each other.

 

“Eh, Jess, she’s goin’ ta make me sit ‘ere like a mutt.” Cassidy giggled, tugging on Jesse’s sleeve as they waited at the door for their host. The preacher sighed but offered no comment. He could, in fact, imagine Emily refusing Cassidy entrance but still offering him a plate like the good Christian she was. He laughed, and then shoddily attempted to cover it. The sound became more of a snort, and Cass glared. But he was all smiles when he hooked in arms around Jesse’s neck. “Ya t’ink it’s funny, do ya?” His retaliation came in the form of sloppy kisses, placed all over Jesse’s face and neck. Jesse made a half-hearted effort to turn his face away, which only encouraged the other man.

 

“Cass, come on, someone could see us.”

 

“Really?” Cassidy’s attempts became more fervid, and soon his mouth was pressed against Jesse’s.

 

Leaning into the kiss, Jesse immediately softened against him. Any concern about Emily and neighbors and Cassidy’s disconcerting interest in voyeurism faded into the warmth of his lover. His hand came to rest over Cass’ cheek, thumb stroking his skin. Cassidy smiled into his mouth and pushed Jesse against the door, earning a soft gasp from the preacher that quickly became a groan as Cass bit at his bottom lip.

 

The soft click of the latch tore Jesse abruptly from his ease. He thanked God for his training as he pushed Cassidy away and straightened his shirt in one fluid motion, moving from the door just before it was opened. Cassidy’s curses of protest faded as he noticed Emily, who looked similarly perturbed. She looked from Cassidy to the preacher and rolled her eyes.

 

It took Jesse a moment to notice that her hair was down, and that in place of her usual orange polo and khakis was a pastel blue sun dress. Jesse tilted his head, blinking at her. She scoffed.

 

“Uh, Cassidy was there when I got your invitation.” Jesse offered by way of explanation, licking his lips and hoping they weren’t swollen, “So I thought he could help.”

 

Cassidy patted his stomach, a sharp grin stretching over his face.

  
“I could eat a whole cow, yeah.”


	3. Half of Something Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two similar prompts are combined here: "Jesse and Cass both get extremely high one night and pretty drunk. This results in sharing of the bed and Cassidy just full on lying on top of Jesse because who needs person space among 'friends'" AND “Jesse and Cass waking up in bed together with a hangover after a night spent drinking”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a few liberties and described more of the night before than the waking up, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

Two whiskey bottles were on the floor. Next to them, two men were on the floor, and they had more whiskey waiting beside the empty bottles.

 

Cassidy was cackling boisterously after making a vastly inappropriate comment about all the sexual experiences that could be had in a church, and that he had probably achieved. Jesse was laughing along with him, but the action was assisted by too much alcohol and too little sleep. At least, that’s what he continued to tell himself as he took more sips, took more drags of what Cass promised was just a cigarette, took more long looks at the body next to him and wondered what it would feel like to do all of those things to him.

 

“Jess, mate, you okay?”

 

His focus returned when he heard the bright Irish accent, and he shook his head, blinking away the haze that had settled in his eyes while he stared at his friend. Cass was now staring back, inquisitive and slightly worried. But then he smiled and puffed smoke in Jesse’s face, and the moment was lost.

 

“Loosen up, Padre. It won’ kill ya.”

 

“I’d prefer my soul remain clean,” Jesse retorted, only slightly perturbed by the vampire’s love of controlled substances. He had to admit that the ease with which he procured them and the generosity with which he shared them made for an excellent unwinding technique after a long day’s work for God.

 

“Ay, but what about your body?” Cass asked with a wiggle of his hips. He giggled, aware that he looked like a dying fish.

 

Jesse ignored him. “Hand me that,” he ordered softly, gesturing to the bottle on Cassidy’s side.

 

Cassidy did not move. Jesse gave it another minute before he propped himself up on his elbow and peered down at his closed eyes and lips closed around a joint. He nudged Cassidy with his foot and the man hummed. Sighing, Jesse stretched his arm out and snatched the whiskey, essentially draping himself over Cassidy in the process. Feeling the preacher’s weight, Cassidy finally reacted, grabbing Jesse’s wrists and making the bottle clatter to the floor. The sound echoed around the large room, but Jesse didn’t think it could drown out the frantic beating of his own heart.

 

“I’ve… prob’ly had enough,” Jesse mumbled, looking anywhere but at Cassidy. “I’m goin’ to bed.” He clambered ungracefully to his feet, grimacing as joints popped and bones cracked. Even when he tried to forget his past of violence and scars, his body remembered.

 

He took a step and his leg met the corner of a pew. The pain was subdued, lost behind his buzz. The room was spinning, his vision blurry, and he could even hear the slur in his voice when he insisted to Cassidy that he was okay to drive himself home.

 

“Oh I’m sure, Padre,” Cassidy said as he stood. He reached into Jesse’s pocket and took his keys, dangling them in front of the preacher’s bemused face. “But wha’ kinda mate would I be if I let you kill yourself? ‘Sides, my ass is on the line, with it bein’ my shite yer drinkin’ here.” He offered a charming grin and motioned for them to be on their way.

 

Begrudgingly, Jesse allowed Cassidy to fold him into the passenger seat of his own truck, but he drew the line at the radio station being turned to pop music. He fought the change until he heard Cassidy singing along, and he nestled in comfortably, dozing to the vampire crooning the lyrics of something truly horrible. He heard, rather than saw, the engine cut as Cassidy pulled into the driveway. Jesse wasn’t a lightweight nor a weak drinker, but whatever cocktail of lethal liquids Cass had put into his flask was definitely testing his limits.

 

“Wakey wakey, love,” Cassidy murmured. And then, in direct contrast to his initially gentle approach, he dragged Jesse from the truck, cackling all the while.

 

“You bastard!” Jesse shouted, but with more mirth than he would usually give in such a situation.

 

“Woke ya up, didn’ it? C’mon.” He tossed the keys in the air and caught them deftly before whistling his way to the front door.

 

Rubbing his forehead, Jesse followed. He pointed out the house key to Cassidy, who was looking lost on the front porch, and then they entered. Jesse belatedly realized Cassidy had never been his house, and turned to his friend. Sweeping his arm lamely across the sparsely furnished living room, he announced, “Well, this is it.”

 

“It’s disappointin’ really, no frilly Christian ‘May the Lord bless this home’ crochet up on the walls.”

 

Jesse scoffed. “I think you believe too much a’ what’s on the TV, Cass.”

 

Cassidy slid next to Jesse and put his arm around the preacher’s shoulders. “And on the TV, Padre, this is the part where I take you to bed.”

 

“Are you taking advantage of me?” Jesse asked, and his voice lowered without him meaning it to. Something about Cass made him braver.

 

The man smiled, all white teeth and challenging eyes. “Maybe. Would you like me to?”

 

Jesse balked. He blurted out, “I’d like to get to bed,” before he could manage anything remotely flirtatious, and mentally reprimanded himself as Cassidy’s smile faltered.

 

“C’mere,” Cass said with a little snort, and knocked Jesse into his body before leading him down the hall in his arms.

 

His friend found the bedroom with ease in the tiny house, and elbowed the door open enough that they could both fit through the opening. He set Jesse down on the bed and then dropped to his knees, and Jesse was slightly surprised by how fast a blush coated his face. Breath hitching, he surveyed Cassidy with what he hoped was slight reproach, and Cassidy stuck his tongue out in response.

 

“Relax, you wanker. I’m takin’ off yer shoes.” He gripped them and chuckled. “Boots, I mean. Honest-to-God Cowboy boots; fuck me.”

 

Jesse held his tongue against saying that he wanted to.

 

Luckily, the boots came off without Jesse kicking Cassidy in the face. The vampire tossed them across the room to the closet, filling the otherwise silent room with a sound that stopped too soon. All that remained was the rise and fall of their lungs, and Jesse’s rapid heartbeat.

 

Cassidy looked up from beneath hooded eyes, licking his lips and grinning lopsidedly. Jesse’s stomach flipped and he shifted to distract himself. In a stroke of common sense generally absent in his drunken state, he forced his eyes away from Cassidy and instead went to work on his shirt buttons. His fingers fumbled continuously while he cursed the clothing.

 

“Let me.” Cool hands removed his own, and Cassidy carefully unbuttoned each constricting layer until Jesse was left shirtless, the garments scattered across the floor. The simple implication of the moment made his skin burn.

 

Cassidy cleared his throat and jumped up too fast for Jesse to follow with his head spinning so fast. “I’m gonna grab a smoke. You get some rest, Jess.”

 

“Stay,” Jesse requested. The request far away, as if he was witnessing someone else make it.

 

“If ya want,” said a man not accustomed to people ever actually wanting him around. A little too quickly, Cassidy answered, “Yes,” and then turned away before he could embarrass himself further.

 

The dresser squeaked when Cassidy bumped into it, but his clothes made barely a sound as he discarded them. Jesse was beginning to lose consciousness when the other man climbed into bed with him. He only opened his eyes to see pale skin and myriad tattoos slipping over the sheets, and then everything blurred.

 

**...**

 

If falling asleep had been like drifting gently downstream, waking up was like crashing down a waterfall. Jesse didn’t necessarily get a hangover, but lost time made him disgruntled and disoriented. He blinked his eyes open slowly, his vision showing him the cracked ceiling of his own bedroom, but also the corner of someone else’s bare knee.

 

Eyebrows furrowed, he maneuvered his head slightly to face his mystery bedmate, and promptly froze. Cassidy was still as a statue, arms spread open wide as if he owned the bed--and Jesse, for that matter. The other man’s legs had claimed the preacher, one knee tossed over his thigh and the other bent toward him. And Cass was completely naked; Jesse tried not to notice how close those hips were to his own.

 

“C-Cass?” he stammered. He couldn’t recall anything after getting to his room, but after a quick survey of it, he noticed both of their clothes were scattered haphazardly around it, as if they’d been in a rush. His heartbeat was erratic.

 

“Mmm?” Cassidy inquired sleepily. He rolled over and opened his eyes, gazing happily at Jesse. “Mornin, sunshine.” He laughed.

 

In a state of perplexed surprise, Jesse threw out the first question he could conceive. “Did we…” he gestured to their general disheveled and nude appearances.

 

Cassidy laughed, a fragmented bark of a sound that still managed to be endearing. Jesse ran his hands through his mess of hair and continued to stare through his hands. Cassidy was giving him a small smile, biting one corner of his lips, and damned if it wasn’t directly out of one of the preacher’s wildest dreams.

 

“Jus’ a friendly sleepover, mate. Why? Do ya wish we had?” Cassidy waggled his eyebrows and widened his eyes, mocking. “Ooh, what a scandal, Padre.” He rubbed his leg up and down Jesse’s, causing a furious blush to creep into the preacher’s face.

 

“Shut up and get dressed, Cass,” he mumbled. There was no force behind it, but Cassidy followed the command all the same.

 

The frigid emptiness of the bed once he had left hurt more than it was supposed to. Jesse ran his hand down the space where Cassidy had been and sighed, wondering what it could possibly be like to actually touch him rather than the idea of him.

 

He hoped he didn’t have to wait too much longer to find out.

 


	4. More Than a Lover to You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: "could u do something where jesse gets hurts somehow and cass does a lot pining/worry?"

Cassidy was not one to shy away from violence. Asking-- _ begging  _ for a fight was more his style. He ached for the brutality and depravity, and the exaltation that came from the feeling of veins bursting in his mouth. The feeling was akin to opiates; a sudden rush and a similar fall, that deep calm that left you somewhere deep within yourself.

He did not feel that calm now.

“Jess, fuck, Jess, stay with me.”

Cassidy held the preacher’s face in his hands, stroking, pressing, trying to find the source of the bleeding. But it was everywhere: Jesse’s hair was matted, shining black in the moonlight, and his sun-warmed skin was awash with scarlet. The asphalt below him seemed to pull the blood from his body. When he coughed, a rivulet of red trailed from his mouth.

“That hurt like a bitch,” Jesse muttered, forcing a laugh. But it ended with another set of hacking coughs, blood coating his tongue and throat. Cassidy’s stomach clenched.

The vampire cast a glance over his shoulder as he gathered Jesse in his arms, pulling him into his lap. “Reckon tha’ stain won’t be comin’ out,” he offered, petting the preacher’s hair absentmindedly. He felt like the bullet was lodged in his own ribcage instead. When he swallowed, it was to force the bile from his throat; his whole body vibrated with the effort, like grief itself was trying to claw its way from his gut. Jesse smiled, thin-lipped and pallid. Cassidy ached to kiss those lips, tell him it was going to be okay. No words came.

“Oh  _ fuck  _ no,” came a voice behind him, and Cassidy started. But his eyes stayed on Jesse’s, even as Jesse’s began to close.

“You tell that asshole to get himself up,” Tulip growled as she rounded on the pair. Her voice was strong, but Cassidy could see her body shaking from her lips to knees. “He’s not dying yet.” She bent low, perching on her toes, and fixed her eyes on Cassidy.

“You said you would protect him.” Her voice was acid.

Cassidy’s chest heaved with a tacit sob as he looked down and fixed his eyes on the gun’s entry wound. “He got in front o’ me, Tulip,” he muttered ashamedly. His voice was soft.

She rolled her eyes. “That’s what he does for the people he loves,” she muttered, patting the preacher on the shoulder. Then she stood and continued, “Now get the hell up, Cassidy. I can’t carry him myself.” He nodded, blinking slowly, and then did as she told, carefully bringing Jesse with him. Together, they carried him to the diner, now a broken shell of its cheerful self. Glass littered the floor and covered the booths. Tulip brushed shards off as they laid Jesse down before running back to the kitchen.

“Girl’s got fire, Jess,” Cassidy whispered, taking the preacher’s hand in his. “I don’ know why you gave her up for me.” He tucked a blood-soaked hair behind Jesse’s ear.

“I liked your style,” Jesse responded weakly, a delicate smirk on his mouth. Cassidy giggled despite himself.

“Well, she’s gon’ save your life, and I’ll sit here useless-like, yeah?”

“Alright.”

When Tulip re-emerged, Cassidy did just that, not trusting his hands to heal when they had been built to bruise. He just held on and watched his friend do unexpected things with kitchen utensils, wincing every time Jesse flinched. It felt so foreign, being disgusted by blood. Being concerned for someone other than himself.

It wasn’t unwelcome.

Vaguely registering that Tulip was talking to him, Cassidy stared at her. But her form was fuzzy, and her voice was a dull buzzing sound. He caught bits of her speech; “Take him home,” “on it,” “kill those bastards.”

“Wha’?” He asked, cocking his head. She sighed.

“I’m gonna’ go kill those guys. Just... take him home, make sure he gets his rest. Play doctor or whatever, I’m sure he’ll hate that.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Cassidy saluted, which earned him a grin that Tulip hastily--and unsuccessfully--hid behind a gory hand. He lifted Jesse bridal-style to his chest.

“Truck’s out back.” She paused. Regarded the vampire and his preacher.

“And Cass--he lost a lot of blood. Don’t…”

“He’s too stubborn to die,” Cassidy assured, voice wavering only slightly. He schooled his expression into one of fondness rather than fear, and it ended up falling somewhere in between. It was soon replaced by his signature toothy grin. “And I’m too stubborn to let ‘em.”

 

…

 

“...and ta’s how I heroically saved you.” Cassidy reclined in his chair, arms folded behind his head and a smug grin stretched across his tired face.

“Uh-huh.” Jesse rubbed his eyes. His limbs felt heavy, and he groaned, weighing the benefits of stretching against the agony of ripping his wound open. “Can I get out of bed now?”

Cass frowned, an exaggerated expression that was accompanied by the shaking of his head. Another groan escaped Jesse’s lungs. Pursing his lips, he narrowed his eyes at his lover. “Fine. But don’t expect me to kiss you--it would upset my injuries.”

“Is t’at so?”

“It is.”

Cassidy bent forward, closing the gap between his chair and the bed. Resting his elbows on the edge, he leaned down until his forehead touched Jesse’s. He pressed chaste kisses to his cheek until Jesse caught his chin between his thumb and index finger. Biting his lip, Jesse tilted his head until he could kiss Cassidy, who smiled into it. Gentle warmth spread through his chest.

Jesse broke the kiss, prompting a grunt of disapproval from Cassidy. “Thank you, Cass,” he whispered against his skin.

Cassidy huffed before sliding into the bed next to Jesse, taking care not to jostle the frame. “S’no trouble at all, Padre. Jus’ got to watch you sleep.” He traced the fresh bandages on Jesse’s torso. Licking his lips, Cassidy drummed his fingers on Jesse’s chest. “But don’ do it again, huh?”

Jesse shrugged; the action was accomplished more with his eyes, as his body refused to cooperate fully regarding motor function. “No promises.”

Burying his face against Jesse’s neck, Cassidy sighed. The preacher felt his hot breath on his collar and shivered before slowly pulling his arm from between them and wrapping it around Cassidy’s shoulders. The movement sent shocks of pain through his body, but he ignored them in favor of drawing his lover closer. 

Jesse was one to shy away from comfort. Asking-- _ inviting  _ conflict was more his style. He ached for the passion and torment of it, and the exaltation that came from the feeling of repentance after. The feeling was akin to praying; a sudden disgust with yourself or the world and then its disappearance, that deep longing for something more that you could never have.

  
He did not feel that longing now.

 


	5. Come Talk To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Jessidy style fix-it after 1.05

“Are we going steady now?” Cassidy asked, saccharine-sweet and unbelieving. He shook the container, delighting in the familiar rattle of the pills against the plastic.

 

Tulip’s face was unreadable. “Even better, we’re in love,” she answered after a beat, and moved a step closer.

 

Uneasy, Cassidy held up his hands, palms facing Tulip, and furrowed his eyebrows. “This i’nt some revenge fuck, is it?” He scratched his head with the pill bottle and scrunched his nose together, regarding her warily. “‘Cause see, t’as what I was doin’ at Toadvine, and lemme tell ya, that shite only made it feel worse.”

 

Tulip crossed her arms and scowled, but in her eyes remained only sadness. “Oh yeah? Who screwed you over?” She pulled out two cigarettes and offered one to him.

 

He took it and thanked her with a small nod and a smile. “Oh, some guy I met in town, real handsome feller; fell har’ for him and then I t’ought he was screwin’ some waitress, so I got high and run off.”

 

“No shit,” Tulip replied, taking a drag. “The waitresses in this town seem mighty friendly to me.”

 

“Yours too?” He inhaled and smiled at the way the nicotine burned through his lungs.

 

“In a way.”

 

She stared past him to the strip club, but he knew she wasn’t seeing the building. Cassidy recognized the look because even inside, faced with beautiful, mostly naked women, all he could picture was Jesse. And after several drinks and a half-hearted dollar tips, he had sighed and stood, only to be confronted by a lovely dancer who took him aside and let him confess all his woes. She and two other girls shouted in indignation at all the proper moments--and gave him some crack on the house--and hugged him sympathetically when he was done. They had assured him his crush wasn’t worth the effort, which Cassidy considered their only error in judgement for the night.

When he left, heart still broken but determination firmly settled in his being, Tulip and his drugs were waiting, and felt rather inclined to mend  _ her _ , if he could.

Smoke blew from her pursed lips in a perfect ring. He grinned at her. “Wanna raise a little hell?” he inquired mischievously, closing the distance between them and grabbing her hip. She chuckled, one short sound soon silenced by a firm frown.

“Whaddya have in mind?” she asked, eyebrow quirked to match the subtle smirk on her red lips.

 

“Mmm, rom-com style, three o’clock driveby? Sadly I have no boom box, though I’m told they’re no longer hip.”

She pondered this, taking the time to crush her cigarette beneath her heel. Cassidy felt the movement of her leg through his arm. “Only if there’s good, hard liquor involved, and you get that hand back to yourself.”

In mock insult, Cass pulled away as if burned. “And who came here for some fuckin’ in ta back of a car?” He shook his head, barely managing to keep the facade.

“The last man who put his eyes on this ass without permission lost a perfectly good komodo dragon, so let’s jus’ see where gropin’ gets ya.”

 

“Now t’as a story I gotta hear, love.” 

“Some other time,” she said, and nodded like it was a deal. Then she closed her eyes and smacked the side of her car, cursing under her breath. Cassidy was impressed.

“Darlin?” he tried after the car received a heavier beating than it likely deserved.

“I can’t believe I came here to fuck you,” she muttered, laughing mirthlessly at herself. “God, I’m. So. Fucking. Pissed at him!” Each word was punctuated with another blow to any large object in her vicinity, which happened to be Cassidy by the end of her sentence. He made a small noise of protest as he escaped her wrath, and she stopped soon after.

Breathing hard, Tulip caught her head in her hands and scuffed the concrete one last time for good measure. “Jesus,” she snapped. Cassidy’s heart lurched when the exclamation made him think of Jesse.

“ _ You  _ need somethin’ stronger than whiskey,” he cooed, and shook the pills enticingly.

“No thanks. Just… go ahead without me, alright? I gotta go home and think.”

Cassidy was shaking his head in disagreement halfway through her request. “I can’ leave ya all alone, can I? Sides, I t’aught we had something, me an’ you.” The final observation came with a charming simper and a wiggle of his lanky hips that had her laughing again. Cassidy adored that laugh; it was rare, which made it worth more when it was finally coaxed out of her.

“Get goin’ before I change your mind and use your man for my revenge fuck,” she teased.

Cassidy saluted her and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “Good luck on yours, darlin.”

“You, too.” Her eyes held just enough hope to share between them.

 

Heeding the advice of a handful of strippers and Miss Priscilla Jean O’Hare, a high-as-hell vampire hitchhiked back into town in the cars of many a teen sneaking out for late night rendezvous; apparently none had ever been told not to talk to strangers wearing ill-fitting clothing and walking in zig-zag motions. One tried to mug him and he politely twisted his arm until the kid had the sense to just drive and shut up. Since Annville was particularly small, it only took him four rides to get to the church parking lot, and he walked the rest of the way.

“Padre!” he called as he pushed open the doors. The preacher had not locked them; that meant Emily also hadn’t been around. Cassidy grinned wickedly.

The pews were empty, so he crept into the reception room. Unsurprisingly, Jesse was sprawled face-first onto one of the long couches, an ashtray on the table and an empty bottle rolling beneath his hanging hand. Cass smiled fondly, and then selfishly leaned over to press into Jesse’s shoulder. The man slept like the dead, but it was surprisingly easy to wake him when physical contact was utilized. As expected, the preacher started and lashed out, but Cassidy was ready, and gripped his wrist with gentle fingers.

“Cass?” Jesse asked confusedly, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Where’ve you been? There were these guys--”

“The one and only. Now, if ya don’ mind…” he cut him off and crouched until they were eye level, and then promptly laid a chaste kiss on his mouth.

Jesse touched his lips, looking at Cassidy with wonder as his mind caught up to the rapid sequence of events.

“T’as somethin’ I shoulda done a long time ago, so… Forgive me, father?”

Jesse smiled, a bright fire in the darkness of the room. “Nothin’ to forgive, Cass. C’mere.” He opened his arms and the vampire gladly filled the space they made. He slid onto his back and held Cassidy close, laying them down together on the sofa.

“What were you sayin’ ‘bout those fellers?” Cassidy asked, breaking the comfortable silence into which they had settled. He maneuvered to face Jesse and nestled his head under the preacher’s chin. 

“Mm,” grumbled Jesse, who had been drifting back to sleep. He kissed Cass’ forehead. “That can wait ‘til morning.”


	6. Have Faith in Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on these prompts: Jesse being honest to god worried about how much he sees Cassidy drink and consume drugs and he never, ever sees him eat anything. I just want Jesse all worried about Cassidy and cass feeling touched af by his worry and not so secretly pleased by all the attention he's getting. AND jesse realizing cassidy is actually a vampire, and not just joking.

A week of hard liquor, air conditioning fluid, and attic insulation had put Cassidy’s empty stomach in riot mode. He tended to ignore any and all cravings when he could, healing from an impromptu skydive or a fight against government clones being the exception, but this ubiquitous hunger was just pressing enough to warrant his immediate attention.

 

Unfortunately, it was Saturday, and Jesse had him running errands to make the church immaculate for the Sunday service. After mopping the pew area--the reminder that the last time he had cleaned there was the result of a blood spill did nothing to quell the urges--and vacuumed the reception room, he was beat. He grabbed a beer from the fridge and sprawled out on the couch, his lanky form covering most of it.

 

He put the cool bottle to his forehead to soothe the migraine crawling into it. Blood cravings for vampires were a bit like exhaustion plus a cold for humans, and he was undoubtedly feeling the symptoms. He could also liken it to the jitters he got when he was human and craving a hit, but he pushed the thought aside. That was a long time ago, and he had plenty of drugs at the present time to tide that particular necessity over. The curtains were all drawn, suspending the room in hazy darkness, but Cassidy could feel the sunlight outside the windows like an itch he couldn’t reach. He sneered at it until he felt himself drifting off. Taking care to set the beer bottle on the table, he turned into the couch and curled his body tight, fighting the fever. He scratched at his skin, pulling his body’s attention from his stomach until he fell into the suspended state between sleeping and awake, a fuzzy reality gnawing at him with bad memories and bad tastes.

 

“Hey! I thought you were s’posed to take care of the--” Jesse’s perturbed voice cut off completely rather than trailing off, a jolting absence of sound.

It was that strange halt that made Cassidy lift his head, albeit lamely. He could just imagine Jesse’s vision of him--pale, sickly, feeble, lying on a dirty couch in clothes two sizes too small and digging at his skin with his own unkept nails. It was a person he had seen in the mirror too many times to recall.

“Cass, what’s going on?” Jesse asked, moving forward slowly. Cassidy heard the hesitant steps, the gentle worry of his tone.

So he played it up a bit. “Looks like me body’s finally gettin’ back at me, ha.” The last laugh turned into a grimace as his stomach growled. He really didn’t need to be this hungry around his preacher, who was the last person in the world he wanted to hurt.

“No surprise there, with all the shit you’ve been smoking.” Jesse grunted and sat down in the space Cass had made by scrunching up.

Cassidy peered at him with squinted eyes. Jesse smiled at him with care and anxiety. The vampire flinched when Jesse touched the back of his hand to his forehead, and gave bumbling apologies even as the preacher did as they tried to negotiate the unfamiliar territory. Finally, Cassidy stilled his body and gestured for Jesse to continue his doctoring. The other man chuckled and shifted again.

Whatever he had been expecting next, Cassidy sure didn’t realize Jesse was going to put his lips on his forehead. Inwardly, he jumped, but externally he managed to remain unmoving.

“Somethin’ my mom taught me,” Jesse said, almost wistfully, all torn edges and teardrops. “Better way to feel the fever than by usin’ your hand.” These words he whispered an inch away from Cassidy’s skin, and the vampire thought he ought to alert Jesse that the heat in his body had very little to do with a fever at the moment.

 

Jesse cleared his throat before standing. He pulled his stiff shirt back into place, fixed his collar, and rolled up his sleeves. “You need water, and soup. Jesus, Cass, when was the last time you ate?”

Cassidy met his eyes but looked away almost instantly, guilt painting his cheeks. He felt like a disappointment. “A while,” he muttered, because it was the truth on vampire as well as human terms. He took a deep breath. “But that shite ain’t gonna help me, Padre.”

The preacher scoffed and turned to the kitchen, shouting over his shoulder as he went. “Bullshit, Cass. I won’t let you die on me.”

Cassidy propped himself up on his elbows and grinned in the direction his friend had walked. Pots and pans clinked randomly; Cassidy had never seen Jesse cook, and was almost positive this was a disaster in the making. “Why not, hrm?” he teased. “Ain’t I a bloody bother?”

Jesse entered the room with a spoon in his hand and jabbed it in the air toward Cassidy. “Shut up or you don’t get soup.”

Cassidy groaned and fell back, rubbing his palms over his hot face. “T’as not what I need, Padre, I keep tellin’ ya.”

“Yeah, okay. What were you smokin’ this morning, again?”

“Bath salts,” Cassidy answered matter-of-factly, “but t’at’s not what t’is is about.”

A soup-like scent wafted from the kitchen. “And what is it about, Cass?” his chef asked, cursing soon after. Cassidy heard a bowl hit the floor.

“I need blood.”

 

Jesse finally reemerged, this time incredulous and annoyed. “You are  _ not  _ a vampire.”

“Am too!” he argued vehemently, but Jesse was already leaving.

While Cassidy appreciated the attention, especially from Jesse, he was tired of this secret hanging between them, and of the preacher’s stubborn refusal to accept it. Cassidy had confessed his true nature a grand total of five times now, and each had been rebuked with an eye roll and a punch in the arm. Not that Cassidy minded Jesse’s hands on him.

Five minutes rolled by in languid intervals. Cassidy amused himself by worrying at the frayed cuffs of his jeans and listening to Jesse’s sad attempts at making soup. After a particularly frustrated yelp came from the kitchen, Cassidy extracted himself from the couch and went to look charming while leaning in the doorway. The bags under his eyes and the way his ribs lined his tank top probably detracted from that aesthetic.

He watched his oblivious friend for another minute--one of excruciating secondhand embarrassment as Jesse mutilated a carrot--before he snuck up behind him. Jesse’s finger was red; he must have burned it. Without thinking, Cassidy spun him around and grabbed his wrist.

“What the hell are you doin’ up?” Jesse asked angrily. “Get back in there and wait for this.”

Cassidy’s eyebrows shot up and he chortled. “I t’ink perhaps that you should stick to preachin’ instead o’ cookin.”

Jesse glared. Eyes glinting, Cassidy raised Jesse’s hand between them, focusing on the sore finger. Then, switching his gaze to meet his friend’s, he pulled his hand forward and lapped at the burn before inserting the finger completely in his mouth. Jesse started and then stood transfixed, his own lips parted and pupils blown.

“All better?” he asked once he pulled Jesse’s hand out of his mouth. Jesse nodded slightly. “Now,” he continued, “I will tell you what will make  _ me  _ all better, and that’s a fucking blood bank.”

“Cass!” Jesse yelled in exasperation, but he didn’t move from in front of him. “Try to take this seriously.”

“I am. And I am trying to make you understand, love.” His voice dropped and he dipped his head. “This vampire thing is not some joke. I need ya to believe me ‘bout t’is, please.”

After what felt like years, Jesse sighed and rested his forehead on Cassidy’s. “Fine,” he murmured. “I believe you.” He curled his fingers in Cassidy’s empty belt loops and tugged him forward. “Now let’s go rob a blood bank.”

Behind them, the pot of water was over-boiling.


	7. Cross My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For this prompt: "H/C fic with Jesse!whump, please! Like what if the seraph didn't track them down at the hotel and interrupt their discussion - and Jesse let's his guard down because honestly they're angels, why would he be worried about them hurting a human? So when he refuses to give up Genesis they gag him and tie him down to the bed. DeBlanc does try to sing Genesis out first, but well, that doesn't work. So Fiore gets the chainsaw again. (Preferably, Cas gets there before there's any permanent damage.)"

Jesse Custer knew a trap when he saw one, but these mysterious men in cowboy hats, even solely for the fact that they were  _ angels,  _ seemed trustworthy to him. He knew they wanted Genesis, and he knew he wouldn’t give it back, but he wanted information. Knowledge could be another power. And on top of all that, sitting in the back of his mind, was the obsessive desire to hear about God and Heaven. Fiore and DeBlanc could give him that at least, or he could make them.

 

After Jesse had finished his coffee, the jumpy pair had requested-- _ requested _ being a loose term with Fiore’s head close to spinning off and DeBlanc’s hard eyes--that the preacher accompany them back to the more private area of their hotel room. They both mumbled something about having the good fortune to avoid any seraphs before he was motioned into their enormous van. DeBlanc drove and Jesse sat in the backseat feeling like a child again, anticipation and curiosity blending in his stomach. Fiore continually looked at him through the mirror, and when Jesse met his gaze with complacent, challenging eyes, the angel looked away in frustrated embarrassment.

 

They pulled into the quiet lot a few minutes later. DeBlanc’s stories had stopped by then; it seemed Jesse was given all wanted about the angel-demon half-breed inside of him. Silently, the angels exited their vehicle, and then urged for Jesse to do the same with frenetic hand gestures and wide eyes. Jesse took his grand old time. He smirked when it made Fiore jumpy, and lingered when they led him to their room. They thought it was human laziness or rudeness, but he was looking for any tails, and for traps. Old habits died hard.

 

Old, shabby, filthy, the room was typical Annville. DeBlanc invited Jesse to sit and he did, getting comfortable on the bed bearing tell-tale signs of weapons beneath the covers. Fiore flinched. They spoke more on Heaven, on the phones and the pair’s illegal presence on Earth. Their custodial duties were of particular interest to Jesse, but DeBlanc managed to sidestep most of those specifics.

 

“Listen,” DeBlanc began without preamble, “we need Genesis back. Tonight. Now.”

Even though it technically belonged to them, and Jesse understood its origin was chaotic and humiliating, his finite answer was simply, “No.” DeBlanc seemed stunned. Fiore raged, accusing him of sin and stupidity. Jesse couldn’t argue with most of his points, but he could smirk and stand.

“We’ll give you anything you want,” DeBlanc begged. He pulled out his wallet for emphasis.

“I don’t want your money,” Jesse drawled. “I”m keepin’ it. I listened to God, and this is what he wants. I can work miracles with Genesis, and that’s what I’m gonna do.”

Something dark and unpleasant passed over DeBlanc’s face. He exchanged a tired look with Fiore, weighted with the length of a conversation but lasting only a couple seconds, and then they lunged. Jesse slipped a handgun out from beneath the sheets, but upon the first flash of blue light, he understood the idea was pointless. Bodies littered the floor. He tripped over a particularly gory version of Fiore, arm ripped from its socket by a shotgun, and sighed. It would be easier to distract them and escape rather than fight through this.

The angels thought he had gotten tired. After two hours, that would be true for most humans, but Jesse had been in fights for years. He was used to extended conflict, car chases, wars even, and wouldn’t be defeated so easily. And he wouldn’t cheat by using Genesis, as had been his original intention. When it came to physical altercations such as this, his pride warranted a real solution.

They hoisted him up, one grabbing each arm, until he was transferred just to Fiore. He held him a little tighter than necessary, likely still holding a grudge for the machete through the face. DeBlanc came back within a minute, waving lengths of thick cord in his arms, and nodded to the unfilled bed. Jesse gave the appropriate struggle, going slack in the angel’s arms. Kicking. But they were strong, too, and had him on his back and secured tightly before he could get in more than five blows.

Jesse had been tied down before. Hell, he’d been tortured while hanging upside down before, so this wasn’t horrible. But Fiore and DeBlanc were pacing, mirroring each other’s gait as they wore into the carpet, over and over, casting him knowing glances. They had gagged him with duct tape. He hated that feeling, his hot breath stopping in his mouth and rushing back to his lungs until he intentionally breathed through his nose, instead. His feet were asleep.

Finally, DeBlanc gently lifted the coffee can from the bedside table while Fiore unpacked a complicated musical contraption that slightly resembled a music box. The can was gently set on Jesse’s abdomen, right where he could sometimes Genesis spitting its mess of love and hate and fire and ice.

 

DeBlanc and Fiore wore the same serious and contemplative faces as the music cranked out and DeBlanc crooned to the can. When the song was over, Jesse prepared himself for something painful, or at least somewhat shocking, but there was only silence.

“It doesn’t make sense!” DeBlanc yelled. Fiore rolled his eyes as if he’d heard the statement many times before. Jesse closed his eyes, relieved. Genesis was still his. If this wasn’t evidence of God’s plan, he didn’t know what could be.

A chainsaw revved nearby. Suddenly, Jesse’s eyes were wide open, and his slow work on his bonds became frantic clawing. His fingernails were bloody, his skin rubbed raw from rope burn.

“Our apologies, Preacher, but this is the only other way.” DeBlanc grimaced, remorseful. Then he stepped to the side and Fiore swam into view. He wore a riot mask and a grim expression, and brandished a large, fast, bloodthirsty chainsaw.

DeBlanc gently withdrew the coffee can and nursed it as if Genesis was already inside. Fiore lined up the blade’s position, putting it far too close to Jesse’s flesh for comfort. He drew his shoulders back, and Jesse watched the little metal hooks with morbid fascination where they moved in the air, waiting to cut into him.

In an instant, Fiore’s head bore a small hole, blood seeping from the black entry point. He fell back and the chainsaw went with him, destroying his corpse’s flesh in loud, squelching intervals. Only a second later did Jesse hear DeBlanc hit the grimy carpet, and then two cold hands were on his face, slapping him back to reality.

“Jess, Jesus, wake up,” came a thick Irish accent. Jesse grinned.

“I’m awake, you shithead. Get me the hell out of these!”

Cassidy flailed briefly before grabbing a knife and easily ripping through the cords. He unraveled them with less ease, Jesse having tangled himself further in his haste to be gone. Jesse heard and saw the blue flashes just as he was getting the last knot off his ankle. He shouted for Cassidy to watch out, Cassidy shouted about clone people, and there was another struggle until Cassidy once again murdered both angels.

“Let’s go!” Jesse yelled. He and Cassidy ran so hard the preacher thought his lungs would burst. Until they were back at the diner with his pickup truck, he wouldn’t be satisfied.

Despite the fact that Jesse had never seen Cassidy eat nor take care of himself remotely, he kept up. The two of them were able to find the blue Ford in only twenty minutes, and jumped into the seats without a word. Jesse drove back to the church like a madman. Cassidy prattled the whole way, a mixture of “I told you” and “Holy shite” and other creative curses.

 

They went straight to the reception area and collapsed onto the floor, side by side. Jesse was breathing so fast his head buzzed. After a minute of calm, he stretched his neck to the side to view Cassidy, who was already gazing at him, nothing but concern in his sharp features.

“I’m fine, Cass,” Jesse assured him, but even as he said it, he knew it was a lie. His nose had been punched a couple times and was bleeding, his ribs ached, and his fight with the rope hadn’t done wonders for the muscles and skin around his wrists. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Ta t’ing is, Padre, you don’ have to.” It was soft and sincere, a side Jesse hadn’t heard much from his friend. Cassidy scooted to a sit, and then lumbered to his feet before the moment could be explored further.

Jesse sat up as well, resting his back on the front of the couch. As he moved, his body responded with lashes of pain, and he gasped. The ribs were worse than the adrenaline had led him to believe. He smiled gratefully when Cassidy returned with bandages, towels, and an ice pack, and reached out for the items.

Cassidy swatted away the preacher’s hands. “Shirt off,” he ordered, and Jesse obeyed with only an incredulous raise of his brows.

Cassidy sat again and pressed the cold pack to the purple area. Jesse sucked in a breath through his teeth and tensed; Cass laid a hand on his shoulder, willing him to relax. He did, and turned his head again. The vampire met his face with a towel over his hand, wiping away the blood and gore on his skin and in his hair. The other hand he left on the ice pack, applying the slightest pressure. Jesse reached up and grasped Cassidy’s wrist as it withdrew, finished with the blood on the preacher’s face. The cloth dropped, but he kept holding him.

“Padre?” Cassidy asked. His voice lifted with doubt.

Jesse tugged Cassidy’s hand forward and put it on his own face. Cassidy parted his lips in shock, but rubbed his thumb over Jesse’s jaw anyway, a tender caress. “You okay, Jess?” he asked, so quiet and unsure that it was more a breath.

“Am now,” Jesse mumbled. He let his head fall forward until their foreheads touched.

Cassidy continued holding the ice and stroking Jesse’s face, his eyes bewildered and giddy all at once. As each second passed, they shifted closer to one another, worrying over their wounds and finding new ways to put their hands on the other. Jesse eventually pulled Cassidy’s palm over his heart to make him feel the way it hammered in his chest, and Cassidy, dazed, could do nothing but listen to the beautifully unsteady beat beneath his palm.


	8. Take a Bite of My Heart Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt "Can you please write a completely dirty and smutty fic about Cass bending Jesse over a church pew and just fucking him senseless and both of them loving it. Cass being totally dominate and biting. Please and thank you!"

By some miracle, when Jesse found Cassidy, the other man wasn’t unconscious. Instead, his body was stretched languidly where he sat, legs apart and arms lining the back of the pew. Clouds of smoke were billowing around him, bathing the church in a greyish haze like a foggy, moonlit night. Jesse didn’t even want to know what the atrocious smell radiating from the roll in his hand was; odds were, if Cass was smoking it, it wasn’t safe for human consumption.

Jesse kicked one of the empty bottles by his feet as he approached. “Got started without me, I see,” he chastised, tossing his jacket next to Cassidy. The other man looked up but said nothing, choosing to take another long drag. He watched Jesse judge the alcohol, eyes narrowed as he read the labels. The preacher’s sleeves were rolled, exposing the hard muscle of his forearms, and Cassidy followed his movements through those, breathing evenly only because of the drugs in his system. A pregnant silence was filling the room, overwhelming and uncommon. And still he watched.

A frustrated sigh was all Jesse could manage as he collected the last of the bottles without aid. He tossed a pointed look at Cassidy before walking them to the recycling, and stood with his hands on his hips when he returned, eyebrows raised.

“Cass.”

Cassidy exhaled slowly, enjoying the curl of the smoke streaming from his lungs . Jesse considered punching him, just to make sure he hadn’t finally caused permanent brain damage. It wasn’t like Cassidy to spend any time silent; the preacher hadn’t known a quiet minute since the man’s arrival. But now his neck was bent over the pew, exposing his throat as he rolled his head. Teeth worrying his lip, Jesse advanced on Cassidy, stopping only when he was standing between his knees. He watched Cassidy swallow and roll his head back enough to stare, some insatiable yearning behind his dark eyes.

Voice hoarse, Jesse repeated his name, taking Cassidy’s chin between his fingers. “Stop avoiding me.”

A small bark of laughter came in response, followed by Cassidy’s most unholy smile. He grabbed Jesse’s wrist with a smirk and held it in place, bending his mouth forward to take the preacher’s thumb into his mouth. Body rigid, Jesse breathed carefully, refusing to be the first to look away. Cassidy’s expression was returning to its normal complacency, tongue peeking out behind his moist lips as he eyed Jesse. Abruptly, he grabbed Jesse’s waist and dragged him forward, tugging until Jesse flailed and had to grab the pews for support.

“I’m not avoiding you, Padre,” Cassidy clarified, pressing his palm against Jesse’s neck. His other hand ghosted over his chest, reaching to unbuckle his belt. “I’m just waitin’ fer ya ta find me.” Ducking under Jesse’s arm, Cassidy slid from the pew, leaving the preacher standing over the structure. He went to stand behind him, pressing one thigh between Jesse’s. A fire burned in Jesse’s stomach, growing with each slide of fabric against his oversensitive skin. The restriction of each layer was striking; his erection was straining against his clothes already, his chest was heaving in anticipation. He could hear Cassidy’s jeans dropping behind him and groaned. Next was his shirt, handled with little care--Cass ripped it off, barely suppressing a laugh as the buttons scattered.

Jesse wasn’t used to being submissive, but the lips biting into his skin destroyed any thought of taking control. He let his muscles relax, melting into the summer heat that was Cassidy’s body. Fingers were in his hair, under his shirt. Jesse’s pants weren’t even on the floor when he felt slickness at the base of his spine. Lower. A wanton moan erupted past his lips when Cassidy pushed a finger inside him. Through harsh breaths, he said, “Don’t--need--that.” Jesse rocked his hips back, grinding against Cassidy blindly. The other man stilled his hand and pressed himself flush against Jesse, ceasing any movement. His teeth were on Jesse’s flesh in an instant, fixing to his earlobe and pulling.

“Show me,” he demanded, his voice a deep growl.

Cassidy covered Jesse’s hands in his own, leading him to his zipper. His hands were on Jesse as soon as the fabric was piled at his ankles. The juncture of Jesse’s thigh and groin was covered by strong, lithe hands, spreading his legs apart. They were removed only so Cassidy could slide on a condom and thrust inside of Jesse, drawing a cry from the preacher. One hand covered Jesse’s heart, keeping the rhythm to his heartbeat; the other fisted in his hair, wound as tightly as Jesse’s abdomen.

Nothing about Cassidy was ever gentle, and Jesse soon realized this was no exception. Cassidy was ravenous, dragging his nails across Jesse’s skin and biting bruises into any skin he could reach. He favored Jesse’s shoulder especially, exhaling hot air over the furious, scarlet marks he created. His hips snapped eagerly, and each push urged Jesse lower, until the preacher was bent over the pew, adding gasps and groans to the sound of skin slapping noisily against skin. Wrapping a hand around Jesse’s already slick cock, Cassidy pumped his hips forcefully and deliberately, cursing incessantly. Jesse could feel him buried deep inside him, so close to the perfect angle that he ached.

Pressure was building inside Jesse that felt nothing like Genesis--it was something harmonious, something acute and feverish and profound. Jesse bent one knee, lifting it to rest against the seat of the pew. The shift sent a shock of pleasure down to his curled toes, and he surged forward. The pew scraped against the wooden floors, but the sound was drowned out. Jesse was soaked in sweat and could feel Cassidy losing himself inside him. It was messy, wet, delicious. 

He was struggling to remain composed, taking great gulps of air. A heady taste of sweat and sex coated his throat. White light burned behind Jesse’s eyelids before he came, Cass’ name sounding from his lip between each beat of his pulse. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. Head cloudy and brain disengaged, Jesse reached behind him to grip Cassidy’s hip, holding him close in the aftershock of his orgasm. His muscles clenched and unclenched around Cass’ cock, the overstimulation growing from a dull throb into a searing pleasure. Cassidy’s moans were building, increasing in volume and pitch as he attempted to restrain himself. He didn’t last long, but Jesse’s nerves were still alight when Cassidy came inside him. His cock was twitching when Cassidy pulled out, and both men groaned with the feeling. Jesse felt intensely empty without him.

The feeling subsided as Cass wrapped his arms around Jesse, kissing the base of his neck and hugging his body close. Jesse made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a whimper and reached his hands back, gripping Cassidy’s ass. He turned his head until he could fully kiss the other man, knocking their tongues together in a frenzy not unlike Cass’ earlier thrusts.

Forced to separate from breathlessness, Jesse murmured, “I don’t think I’ll be able to stand for the service tomorrow.”

Cassidy’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “Tha’ was the goal, Padre.”

He kissed Jesse again.


	9. If I Had to Perish Twice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cassidy wasn’t quite clear what he was attempting to prove with his little stunt. Perhaps it was a response to the ever-doubtful Tulip, a final way of showing her that he and Jesse could survive anything together. Then again, perhaps it was an act to show Jesse that there was still good in him despite Genesis, and that he needed to be rid of it before it caused any more vile, irreparable damage. Cassidy also admitted in part it was selfish; he wanted his preacher to know all of him, every sin and sight, and accept him for that. Love him for that.
> 
> (Or, a 1x07 fix-it fic)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode caused me undue emotional strife.

Cassidy wasn’t quite clear what he was attempting to prove with his little stunt. Perhaps it was a response to the ever-doubtful Tulip, a final way of showing her that he and Jesse could survive anything together. Then again, perhaps it was an act to show Jesse that there was still good in him despite Genesis, and that he needed to be rid of it before it caused any more vile, irreparable damage. Cassidy also admitted in part it was selfish; he wanted his preacher to know all of him, every sin and sight, and accept him for that. Love him for that.

 

He had meant every word when he told Tulip that Jesse would never let him die. Even if Cassidy’s feelings went deeper than friendship and he was entirely alone in his sentiments, he knew the other man’s affection extended enough to not let him burn to ash. At least, he was fairly certain of this; doubt was too far ingrained in his bones to not let him creep upon him now.

 

Stripping in such close proximity to the scorched sand made his body itch and his muscles quiver. Stripping in such close proximity to Jesse Custer had a vastly different effect, one that he avoided with a quick inhale and a shake of his head.

 

He could have screamed at the bewilderment on Jesse’s face when he threw the fire extinguisher in the sunlight. Nine times he had told him, nine moments of sheer panic disguised with a lazy smirk and a few joints, but Jesse had never believed him. Cassidy could have healed from some horrible accident and Jesse would have cited a miracle from God, and, if Cass was being honest, blood would not be the worst thing the preacher had seen him put in his system. So this was his last resort, and his heart could barely take it. He started walking.

 

“Or will you let me burn, too?” he asked, gritting his teeth.

 

Heart hammering, stomach rolling with nasaeua, the vampire stepped out into the sun, never looking away from Jesse. Instantly, his skin began to sizzle, a sickening sound akin to insects frying on tar. Not soon after, hot, red boils appeared, popping and glistening as his body became less human and more a human-shaped pillar of flame.

 

The pain was a car crash on a Texas high noon, desert heat wrapped in metal wrapped in thick sand. Never when he was human had he felt this kind of pain. His instincts shrieked at him for this  _ wrongness,  _ his nerves shrieked at him for respite. Flames licked at him with the ferocity of rabid beasts, devouring mercilessly. And his heart was breaking as Jesse looked on, speechless and shocked and doing nothing to save him. Even when his eyes were burnt out, he could still picture that horrified gaze.

 

His heart ceased beating and he knew that Tulip was right. He would never be accepted. His bones and flesh were charred remains of the man he was, the man he could have been. Jesse Custer had ensured the destruction of the very person who would have given him his unyielding devotion. He was standing in the black smoke of his truest friend.

 

Suddenly, he was doused in coolness so overwhelming that it felt like he had been thrown in the ocean. The foam sprayed every inch of Cassidy’s body until he and it were one. Millions of needles pricked at the skin in in his legs--the sweatpants saved some of that area from burning--while all the nerves had been seared away in his upper half. He couldn’t see, nor hear, nor breathe. He could barely register why he was still semi-conscious, but immortality had a strange way of working. Survival always made its best effort, especially when aided by two strong hands dragging his scattered pieces back to the shade.

Another river ran his way, though with less pelting than before. It was a stream, and his listless remains reached for it with little recognition beyond  _ life.  _ The pain of being rebuilt came next; the feeling of sinew reconnecting and of organs regrowing. Sooner than he expected, his head and eyes returned, and with them their functions. What had felt like an eternity of fire had only been an instant, and Jesse had retrieved him from his self-made pyre.

_ Jesse.  _ The man was on his knees, his features frantic and stricken. Despite some obvious disgust and a frown, he was calling Cassidy’s name repeatedly and pressing his arm to the vampire’s mouth. Only then did Cassidy register that the blood he was consuming came straight from Jesse’s arm, where a large gash dripped the scarlet lifeline.

The preacher was pale. Dizzy. Even as Cassidy healed more, he could see Jesse fading. He made a noise deep in his throat, attempting to protest, but it came out as a snarl and a demand for more blood, the creature of the night winning. Another agonizing minute passed before he was able to tear himself away, gasping like a drowning man and insides still burning. It would take a lot more than Jesse’s donation to pull him all the way back together.

“You wanker!” he shouted, throat still raw where it hadn’t healed. He coughed and cursed again. “You could have fucking  _ died _ !” He stretched out his red, naked flesh, flinching when the movement caused friction between himself and the ground. Glaring at Jesse, he tried to keep his stare from wandering to his bleeding arm. He couldn’t keep feeding on him.

“So… so could you,” Jesse retorted, the venom lost in his wooziness. “I couldn’t let you… I thought I could but… Cass.  _ Cass. _ ” He seemed like he had just been torn apart, too. Eyes closed, hair falling in his face, and skin covered in ash and blood, he was almost every bit as messy and ruined as the man he was holding in his lap.

“Cass,” he said again, but it sounded more like _I’m sorry_ and _I should have let you burn_ and _I don’t understand_ and _I love you_ and _I hate you_ all wrapped up in one erratic package.

“Look, I’ll go, a’right? T’is is too much fer ya and yer Almighty, so I’ll find a cow an’ be on me bloody way.”

 

Cassidy struggled to get on his feet, clawing at the sand until it was under his nails. He had barely moved; his body was still unable to perform basic tasks. He was stuck with his chest pulled onto Jesse’s knees, with Jesse’s hands hanging by his face, with Jesse’s ragged breath mingling with his lungs’ best efforts to inhale and exhale. And he couldn’t look away; every line on Jesse’s face was being seen through fresh, new eyes, and damned if he would waste any second of that opportunity.

“I don’t want you gone,” the preacher finally whispered. “I can’t explain it and hell, I can’t explain  _ you,  _ but that don’t mean I want you gone.”

Cassidy’s chapped lips broke into a wide grin, one that his face muscles protested adamantly but his heart promoted fearlessly. “Then whadda we do, Padre, eh?” He tilted his chin reached his aching hand to clutch at Jesse’s face.

Jesse leaned into his touch and grimaced. He pressed his palm gently over Cassidy’s knuckles, and then slowly lowered his head until their noses touched. The vampire stilled, breath hitching and heart pounding. “Anyone else, Cass, and you’d be a goner. But you.. Are you feeling this, too?” Jesse murmured. His dark eyes swallowed Cassidy whole.

“Yeah,” he answered, too deconstructed from pain and infatuation to say much else.

Jesse chucked, bringing him the slightest bit closer. Their kiss was languid and deep, built on sorrow and joy, of all the perfect, rioting dichotomies in the universe. Jesse’s lips were, to Cassidy, just like the sun--heat, fear, promise, desire, rage, and love. He knew he still had a body to mend, but the taste of whiskey and vanilla extract on a preacher’s lips was more than enough distraction. And so they kissed until the burns became a dull throb on his skin and until the smoke had dissipated in the light, clutching each other as if they were all they had left in the world.


	10. Take in the Extent of My Sin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompts "Can I prompt you to do a fic where Cassidy has a panty kink, particularly when they're on a certain preacher" and "Ok so I saw this thing in the jessidy tag about Jesse wearing women's lingerie sometimes and Cass finding out and in short I NEED A FIC OF THIS NOW PLEASE!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The soundtrack for this chapter included the wildly different tracks "Into You" (Ariana Grande), "Good for You" (cover, Leslie Odom Jr. and Daveed Diggs) and "Closer" (Nine Inch Nails). And should you desire a visual, Jesse's lingerie was inspired by this piece: https://www.victoriassecret.com/clearance/panties/floral-lace-garter-belt-dream-angels?ProductID=297776&CatalogueType=OLS&search=true

When the washer finally stopped running, Jesse was the first to claim the shower. Despite Cassidy’s earlier insistence that he required it, the preacher convinced him otherwise. Cassidy wasn’t all that surprised at himself--when it came to Jesse, even when the man wasn’t using his power, it was impossible to refuse him. Outwardly, he blamed Jesse’s southern charm and his own need for companionship after a century of wandering. It was easier than accepting the truth; he wanted Jesse Custer, and he wanted him badly.

Stopping himself from staring when the man stripped, Cassidy thought, was one of his greatest accomplishments, and he’d managed to survive a 30000-foot fall.

Jesse stepped out of the bathroom with a white towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was sticking up where he’d haphazardly dried it, and Cassidy ached to run his finger through it, press it down and pull it back up. His stomach clenched as the image invaded his thoughts; Jesse, hips in the air, writhing beneath him… Cassidy cleared his throat as he felt warmth pooling through his body, and then pressed the towel he had been given to his uncomfortably tight briefs.

“Oh, go ahead,” Jesse offered, motioning to the bathroom. He was oblivious to Cassidy’s desire, and was instead casting his eyes around the room for a change of clothes. “Our stuff won’t be dry for a bit, so I uh, grabbed some clothes for you.”

Cassidy cocked his head, feeling a warmth very different than the one he’d experienced moments ago. Something akin to affection fluttered in his chest, and he scowled, wringing the towel in his hands. “Alright.” He left Jesse to himself and closed the bathroom door.

As the water warmed, Cassidy spent too much time staring at his reflection, wondering if it was one that deserved Jesse. If it was one Jesse might want. The mirror showed him a gaunt, emaciated figure. He growled at it, dragging his nails down his chest, and stepped into the shower.

Turning the knob until it showed red, Cassidy let himself burn. His skin turned a light red that faded and reemerged as he healed. He pressed his palm again the cool tile and breathed, watching the steam rise around him. And then he turned the shower off, not bothering to dry off before stepping out and wrenching the bathroom door open. Water poured from his body in clear rivulets, splashing on the wooden floor. If this was Pulp Fiction, he was going to be Uma Thurman, not Samuel L. Jackson. At least she had a shot with the guy.

What Cassidy did expect was a firm “what the fuck” and rolling eyes. Jesse would wave him back into the bathroom, complaining about the floors and Cassidy’s indecency, and that would be that.

What he did not expect was to see Jesse seated shirtless, a cigarette dangling lazily from his mouth, rolling fishnets over his calves.

The sight arrested Cassidy, and he gaped, straightening where he stood. He promptly closed his mouth, blinking while he waited for Jesse to say something. Anything. But the preacher only glanced at him before pulling the fabric the rest of the way up, taking care not to rip it. He put the cigarette out.

The stocking fastened neatly to a thin garter, and Cassidy noticed a loose buckle still hanging from the piece. But Jesse’s skin was otherwise completely exposed, and Cassidy hungered over every inch. And when Jesse pulled a pair of lace black panties from the floor beside him, Cassidy felt his mouth go dry.

His hard lines of muscle seemed cohesive with the softness of the lingerie. The lace was seductive, not foreign. Cassidy watched wide-eyed as Jesse stood, and he felt his heart skip a beat as the other man’s eyes met his. He heard, rather than saw, Jesse slide the underwear over his thighs--the gentle scrape of fabric, the click of any final hooks. The visual was unnecessary, however; Cassidy could feel his teeth ripping at the thin lace, could feel his fingernails on the bump of the fishnet, could feel himself kissing Jesse’s skin and pushing into him in time with his frantic heartbeat. His body throbbed dangerously.

Cassidy looked anyway. The soft whimper that escaped his lips was involuntary, but the groan that followed it was throaty and carnal. He was painfully, exquisitely hard. Jesse smirked, hand reaching down to smooth the panty. Something between a growl and beg was all Cassidy could offer as he used the door to support himself, dazed and quivering and straining.

It was cruel, the way Jesse stared. Cruel and decadent.

As Cassidy watched, Jesse paced over to the room’s small closet, fingers lingering over the doorknob. A wanton grin was spread over his face, but still he reached for a shirt and slacks. He donned them wordlessly but gradually, something that reminded Cassidy of old-time peep shows. But this--this was overwhelmingly more arousing, prompting Cassidy to bite his lip and dig his nails into his palm as he tried not to touch himself.

Fully clothed, Jesse approached Cassidy, expression nonchalant. Yet his eyes betrayed his body, even as he splayed his palm on the wall beside Cassidy’s head, keeping his distance. Their mouths were a mere breath apart.

When he spoke, the scent of nicotine washed over Cassidy. “See you after the service?” Cassidy nodded, fighting a shiver.

“We’ll make a good Christian out of you yet,” Jesse whispered before drawing back. He smoothed his suit before turning, exiting the room without another word.

Cassidy thought he’d stick to being a sinner.


	11. Truth or Dare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filling this prompt: "I imagine Cass betting Jesse that he could win at the -who could get closer and more intimate without backing out- game or really any game that ends in the same scenario. And either one them winning and the bet was to fuck the other man, but then in the end they both just end up fucking each other."

Cassidy, ever mischievous and carefree, was overly fond of games. Jesse, reformed and holy, was no longer fond of them in any form, but somehow, he had found himself stuck in one with his best friend. And if he was being completely honest, it was all his fault.

 

A bottle of bourbon never hit Jesse hard, but one imbued with Cassidy’s homemade ‘car bomb’ packed a particularly different punch. So a man used to being tightly wound during the day unraveled a little too far at night, and while Cassidy behaved like a perfect gentlemen--in the sense that the filthy Irishman ever did--Jesse did  _ not. _ Fed up with the lack of response from Cassidy from his subtle flirtations (his lunch invitations were consistently rejected), Jesse decided to try a more hands-on approach.

 

They sat on the kitchen floor, onto which they had fallen after clumsily searching for glasses when they were still pretending they wouldn’t down the whole bottle in one go. Cassidy was cackling at Jesse’s tipsy giggling, but neither could quite recall what the original joke had been. This only contributed to more laughter.

 

Jesse’s shirtsleeves were rolled up past his elbows and his collar was loose, the white tab discarded in his room. His shoes were somewhere far away, possibly with Cassidy’s shirt. When the other man had lost that clothing article Jesse could not recall, but he was far from complaining. He would deny any outward appraising of the vampire’s intricate ink and lean muscles later, of course, but for now, his gaze was open and fond. He licked his lips when he followed the line of his obliques down to his loose-fitting waistband.

“See somefin ya like, Padre?” Cassidy asked, an amused bark in his throat. There was an illicit, tacit dare in his eyes.

He crossed his arms behind his head and shimmied his hips, biting his lip. Jesse was acutely aware that his pants were quickly becoming a little tighter than they had been only moments before, and shifted with a cough. Cassidy quirked an eyebrow. The length of his legs allowed him to push his feet forward, and Jesse watched them, clad in socks littered with holes, reach his own bare feet. Then, Cassidy scooted forward, rubbing his feet over Jesse’s ankles, up his pant legs, and on his thighs as he drew even closer. “Nervous?” he teased, echoing school days long gone. Leaning his weight on his elbows and draped half onto Jesse’s lap, he looked obscene and intensely fuckable.

Jesse had invited this challenge, so he’d be damned if he was going to lose. “No,” he said, smirking when his voice came out steady. He cleared his throat and stood, making no attempt to hide the bulge between his legs. “I’m gonna hit the shower.”

 

Cassidy, for once, seemed stricken speechless. He was staring, but definitely not at the preacher’s face. Jesse struggled to leave him there on the floor with his mouth agape and pupils blown, but he would was enjoying it too much to let it stop so soon.

“Right… I’ll just, wait here,” Cassidy offered lamely as Jesse turned his back and went to the bathroom. He left the door wide open, knowing that Cassidy had followed him rather than remained. The vampire trailed stealthily, but Jesse was trained to pick up professional tails, and Cassidy was far from one of those. 

He stripped slowly after turning on the water, waiting for it to heat up. Each button popped in languid intervals, and his pants he rolled down carefully. He folded the fabric with military precision before finally sliding off his boxer briefs, showing Cassidy his profile. He heard the sharp intake of breath from the other man and stifled a smile. Hot water finally running, he stretched his entire body before stepping into the steamy rush. If the prospect of the floor getting soaked wasn’t a real concern, he would have left the curtain open so Cass could see him soap himself. Even so, he heard the Irishman’s creative curses and what sounded like the wall getting an undeserved beating.

Ten minutes later, Jesse cut the water and stepped out, grabbing a towel immediately. The white fabric wrapped completely around his waist, but he purposefully set it lower on his hips, displaying the hard V starting on his abdomen and leading downward. A shudder wracked his body when he imagined Cassidy’s tongue tracing that shape.

“Jess.”

The preacher turned, but Cassidy had left no space between them as he invaded the small area. He pressed his body flush against Jesse’s and backed him into the sink, the linoleum digging into the man’s spine. He gritted his teeth even as Cass reached between them and untied the towel. It fell to the floor silently, and the rush of cold air made Jesse flinch. He was acutely aware of Cassidy’s hands still lingering between them, of the water running down his body, making him so wet and pliable.

“Nervous?” Jesse repeated snarkily, curling his lip. He said the words around Cassidy’s ear, his teeth ghosting over the skin there.

Cassidy shivered. Jesse pushed him away with the palm of his hand, guiding him into the open door until he hit it with a soft thud. His chest rose and fell laboriously, and even the loose sweatpants couldn’t hide the hardness below his belly.

“No,” he sneered, quite convincingly. But his eyes couldn’t lie the way his mouth could.

“Good.” Jesse bent over to retrieve the towel and rubbed it lazily over his body until he was dry. Then, he threw it at Cassidy and walked to his room.

He didn’t bother dressing before he clambered into bed, face down. He kept all sheets and blankets off, bundled onto the other side of the bed haphazardly. Head resting on his crossed arms, he kept his eyes closed, but there was no idea of sleeping in his mind.

Unsurprisingly, Cassidy’s determined footsteps sounded on the hardwood floors only a moment later. Jesse heard him come in and stand next to the occupied side of the bed, openly appreciating the feast of flesh before him. After an agonizing eternity of this watching, the bed dipped under the weight of another body as Cassidy deftly climbed atop his preacher. On his hands and knees, he flattened his hands on either side of Jesse’s head and placed his legs around his hips.

Jesse heard that feral grin break his face, and then stiffened in surprise when a sharp nail followed the curve of his spine. It stopped just above his ass, and then repeated its journey. Jesse tried not to moan as Cassidy lowered his head, breathing hotly between his shoulder blades. “Nervous?” the Irish accent hissed. His legs tightened around Jesse and his tongue replaced the path his finger had made.

“Nope,” Jesse gritted between clenched teeth. He wouldn’t give Cass the satisfaction, not yet. He flipped over, knocking Cassidy’s head out of the way and baring himself completely. “Are you?” Simpering, he hooked his finger in Cass’ waistband and tugged once, twice, before latching his leg over his hip.

Cassidy’s nostrils flared. “Nah,” he drawled, feigning nonchalance as he shrugged his shoulders. He looked between them, between Jesse’s legs, and continued, “But ya seem a little excited, heh?”

“Nice try, but I don’t recall this bein’ your bed.”

Cassidy ceased his lascivious efforts and removed himself from the bed. “Right ya are,” he growled, the frustration seeping into his tone only riling Jesse further. “I’ll be on the couch, if ya change your mind,” he added flirtatiously as he exited.

Jesse allowed a few minutes to pass before he swung his legs over the side of the mattress and stood. Before he left his room, he grabbed a few items from the bedside drawer, and then he headed straight to the living room. Cassidy, wearing only in his underwear, had set up a sparse bed on the couch and closed all the curtains. His eyes were closed, but his mouth was wide open as one hand worked at his erection. The other was bent beneath him, and Jesse’s mouth went dry at the mere sight.

The preacher wasted no time in crossing the room and grabbing Cassidy’s wrist. The other man’s eyes flew open in shock, and then gleeful recognition as the haze of pleasure subsided slightly and he allowed Jesse to situate himself on his lap. Grinding down on Cass in a way that certainly would have disappointed the Holy Father, Jesse asked, “Nervous?” and smirked. 

 

“Yes, alright, you fucking win, dear lord,” Cassidy whimpered. He dug his nails into Jesse’s shoulders, forcing him down harder. “Oh, Jess…” he turned his head to the side, lost in the explosive heat between his legs, but Jesse snatched his chin and forced him to meet his eyes.

“What do I win, Cass?” he panted.

Cassidy grinned, all teeth, and surged forward, attaching his lips to Jesse’s throat. The preacher moaned as he lifted him and latched his legs around Cassidy’s waist. Hastily, the vampire carried him to the kitchen table, thankful it wasn’t set for any occasion as he spread Jesse on it. He looked  _ edible.  _ “You fuck me, or I fuck you,” he growled. “But this is happening one way or another tonight.”

From beneath him, Jesse chuckled, and pulled Cassidy in for a rough, sloppy kiss. “You first,” he demanded. “You lost.”

Excited by the promise of multiple rounds, Cassidy groaned happily and pulled Jesse up to stand with him. They wrapped their bodies together, kissing and biting, until the preacher threaded his hand in Cassidy’s hair and pulled his head back. Cassidy yelped and stared.

“Lay down and get your legs up,” Jesse ordered, but Cassidy was already on the same page. He stretched out on his back, feet sliding up Jesse’s hips as the man finally unwrapped the condom he had procured and rolled it on. Cassidy’s knees went weak when he heard the snap of a bottle cap.

“Dear God,” Cassidy moaned when slick fingers ran the length of him, lifted him higher, pushed easily inside of him. The pleasure of that sensation alone, combined with the way Jesse’s dark hair fell over his dark eyes, could easily make him come. But he would wait.

“Leave God outta this. When you come, you fucking scream  _ my _ name, Cassidy.”

Later on, when Cassidy’s legs were on Jesse’s shoulders and the man was pounding into him like it was their last night on Earth, that was exactly what he did.


	12. Take Off Your Pants and Jacket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted from one admin to another: "I just need a striptease, okay? And some fluff. There's so much angst right now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate summary: This is basically just self-indulgent (but still in character!) fluff and smut. Enjoy :)

Jesse couldn’t concentrate.

Sitting cross-legged on his bed, pen in hand, the preacher scowled at the sermon covering his notebook. He poured over it, scratching out phrases and shredding entire pages when it didn’t convey the necessary message. But hellfire and eternal damnation were not compelling when Cassidy was pacing around the bedroom, being… well, Cassidy.

The other man wore green sweatpants two sizes too large, cinched at the waist with a bedazzled, pink Junior’s belt that he somehow made fit. The pink matched a dyed-straw garden hat, and his t-shirt boasted “World’s Best Grandpa” in bold red letters where it wasn’t torn from wear. Jesse had conceded to his friend’s eccentricities, if only to amuse himself on particularly dry Texas days. But that hat was a damn travesty.

“Nice outfit,” Jesse hummed, scribbling over another line. He watched Cass purse his lips, a response forming that he thought better of as the preacher stared him down. Finally settling on, “Yeah, well,” Cassidy threw himself down on the edge of the bed. The edges of the hat nearly clipped Jesse’s cheekbones, and he grimaced.

"Take that damn thing off, will you?"

Cass actually giggled, following it with a pathetic attempt at making the sound into a more  contemptuous snort. “Ya don’ like my style, Padre?” He stretched across the mattress, raising his arms to exhibit the entire outfit, complete with cowboy boots. Jesse could only shake his head. Promptly sticking his tongue out at the other man, Cassidy shot back up out of the bed, rocking the entire structure. The pen drew a wavy line across the page, and Jesse let out a long-suffering sigh. He scrunched up his nose and squinted one eye up at Cass, who had resumed his pacing. He watched until Cassidy stopped a few feet from the bed, hands on his hips, and then went back to his sermon.   


Jesse thought nothing of it until he heard cloth drop.

“Wha--?” The preacher began, head snapping up. A bare chest greeted him.

“Ya said ya didn’ like it, Jess,” Cass offered, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

“I didn’t like the hat,” Jesse reciprocated, mouth dry. His eyes wandered the expanse of Cassidy’s torso, hungrily taking in the tattoos and scars and lines of lean muscle. Cassidy shrugged.

“ _ I _ didn’ like the shirt.”

“Well.” Jesse coughed, feeling his stomach clench. Refusing to avert his eyes, he let the blush cover his cheekbones, thankful his Sunday wear hid the rest. “I don’t like the boots.”

Cassidy gasped, feigning offense. “I got ‘em special for you, Jess.” The wry smile that followed made Jesse bite his lip against a chuckle. “But if ya insist.” He stepped out of the boots, wiggling his toes under his socks as they met the wooden floor. The ghastly pink hat laid abandoned under the shirt.

Jesse had completely forgotten the sermon. All his focus was on Cassidy, half-naked and compliant. It gave him a thrill wholly unlike just using Genesis’ powers; he asked, rather than demanded, and Cass was still just as eager.

Jesse settled back against the headboard, thighs spread apart just enough for Cass to see the effect he was having on him. His mouth was pulled in a playful smirk, but his eyes were ravenous, half-lidded by lust already. It was indecent, the effect Cassidy had on the man. But Jesse didn’t really mind.

“And that belt--did you steal that from a fourteen year old?” It was difficult to keep the laughter from his tone.

Cassidy’s hands were raised as he stepped closer to the bed, halting only when his knees were pressed to the edge. “I mean, tha’s going too far, tha’ is. This--” he punctuated the word by clicking the buckle open--“is my favorite belt.” He slid it off slowly, almost gingerly, like he didn’t want to antagonize the object. It was the silliest strip tease Jesse had ever seen, and yet his blood rushed appreciatively as Cass’ sweatpants slid lower, exposing the tops of his thighs. Shaking his head at the pants, Cassidy clicked his tongue. “Ah, what a bloody shame, they fit so well.”

Unable to suppress it any longer, Jesse let out a hearty laugh and reached for Cassidy, hooking his fingers under his sliding waistband. Cassidy lost his balance and rocked forward, falling onto the bed and over Jesse with a gleeful yelp. It was neither seductive nor graceful, but Jesse loved it anyway. Each gentle brush of skin made his heart jump as he wrestled Cass beneath him.

Cassidy chuckled happily and kicked the sweatpants off, mischief in his eyes. He cupped Jesse’s cheek and brought him in for a quick kiss, smiling into it. His arm flailed for the bedside table as Jesse deepened the kiss and trapped him against the headboard. Their tongues knocked together as they developed a burning rhythm, Jesse’s hips grinding into Cassidy’s as Cassidy searched blindly for lubricant and a condom.

He gave a triumphant shout that was overtaken by a moan as he located the items. Jesse had his mouth on Cassidy, sliding his tongue over the juncture of his shoulder and neck. His hands were working on his own shirt, frantically unbuttoning it as Cassidy rutted against him.

“Cass,” he growled, throwing his full weight against the other man to stop him.

“Mm?” Cassidy asked innocently, sliding his palm between Jesse’s legs. He bit at Jesse’s earlobe as the preacher arched into him, shoulders slacking and eyes closing.

The remainder of Jesse’s clothes were thrown unceremoniously onto the floor as swiftly as the two men could manage.

Jesse’s entire body was shaking in anticipation as he grabbed behind Cassidy’s knees and pushed them back. He settled between his thighs and slicked his fingers as Cassidy adjusted, wrapping his ankles together above the small of Jesse’s back. As he dipped his head for another kiss, Jesse worked a finger into Cassidy. The groan of appreciation he elicited made Jesse’s throat tight. He was always vocal when Jesse fucked him; which, recently, had become more common than not. Jesse briefly wondered why Cassidy hadn’t tried to kiss him their first night in the church--wondered why they couldn’t have gotten to this sooner--as he pushed inside of him more. The thought was gone as quickly as it came, though. It was no use dwelling when he had him now, whimpering and writhing beneath him.

Cassidy’s fingers threaded into Jesse’s hair. He tugged gently, urging Jesse to continue. A litany of words Jesse wasn’t sure were English poured from Cassidy mouth, and Jesse pressed a firm kiss to stop them. He bit at Cass’ lower lip, sucking until he had worked his fingers completely out of him.

“Fuck me, please,” Cassidy pleaded, running his hands along the preacher’s chest. Jesse caught them and kissed the insides of Cassidy’s wrists before pushing him away. Cassidy responded with a noise of protest, but had little time to draw it out.

Mouth opening in a silent cry as Jesse thrust inside him, Cassidy arched his back to meet him. A sharp inhale through his nose was all he could manage before Jesse was driving into him, vigorous and ceaseless. Jesse’s fingers dug into Cassidy’s jutting hipbones to lift him up, and he slammed into his body. Cassidy wrapped his arms around the preacher’s neck, drawing him as close as possible. Jesse nuzzled his jaw, smiling. His hand reached between them to grip Cassidy’s cock, and he fought a chuckle as Cassidy struggled between thrusting into Jesse’s hand and letting himself be fucked into the mattress. Eventually choosing the latter, he tightened around Jesse, thighs trapping the preacher against his lithe body.

Jesse could feel pressure coiling in his groin, and he grunted with the effort of keeping his orgasm at bay. He skimmed his fingers over Cassidy’s cheekbones before taking his face between his hands and kissing him messily, all tongue and teeth. Jesse loved the sounds Cassidy made when he kissed him; muffled moans, incoherent pleads.

It wasn’t long before Cassidy couldn’t maintain the kiss. Lost in Jesse’s rhythm, his head fell back in ecstasy. A sharp cry interrupted his emphatic curses as he came, spilling over his stomach and Jesse’s. Jesse continued rolling his hips, coaxing Cassidy through even as an explosive heat built in his own groin.

Cassidy noticed, and a lascivious grin came over his face. He clenched his muscles, biting his lip and closing his eyes as he rocked his hips. It was slow and sensual, completely different from their earlier breathtaking pace. Jesse took great shuddering breaths, face pressed into Cass’ shoulder. His hands strayed back to Cassidy’s hips.

Cassidy turned until his lips were pressed against Jesse’s ear. His palms stroked up and down his lover’s back, tracing the scars he could feel and the tattoos he knew were there. “Come on, Jess,” he growled, and that was all it took. Jesse considered when Cassidy using his nickname had become the sexiest thing he’d ever heard as he bent to kiss him.

Cassidy’s arm snaked around his shoulder as he held Jesse to his chest, kissing his swollen lips with fervor. He gave a bark of objection as Jesse pulled out of him, but practically purred when Jesse curled back against his body. The scent of sweat and come lingered heavily between them.

Jesse pressed kiss after kiss to Cassidy’s neck, dazed. Cassidy huffed, pretending to be annoyed, but he chuckled anyway. He began to say something, but promptly cut himself off. Jesse raised his eyebrows at the other man’s mouth, quirking into a perplexed expression.

“What?” he inquired, lifting himself on his elbows. Cassidy cocked his head.

“There’s somethin’... wet.”

Jesse snorted. “Yeah?”

Cassidy fought a smile. “Very funny, Padre. No, it’s--” He waved his hand, peering passed Jesse’s body to their tangled legs. Jesse followed his gaze.

A pool of black was growing around their calves, and soon Jesse’s expression mirrored Cassidy’s. “What the…” It took a moment for his mind to catch up. When he finally realized what it was, he laughed, a full-bellied sound that shocked Cassidy.

“It’s ink,” Jesse said, rolling onto his back. Cassidy stayed pressed against the headboard, face still quizzical. Hardly keeping a laugh out of his voice, Jesse explained, “The pen broke open.” After continued silence on Cassidy’s part, Jesse groaned and pulled the other man over him. “It was my favorite pen,” he added, tone serious but eyes light. Cassidy scoffed at him.

With a start, Jesse realized what little of the sermon he had finished must be drowning in ink, covered in sweat, or torn irreparably. He glanced at Cass. “You’re a damn nuisance,” he muttered without conviction.

“But ya love me besides.”

It was said so casually that Jesse ignored the way his chest constricted, as well as the resulting confusion as to whether he was pleased or displeased about them. So he kissed Cass gently and let it be.

He still had a sermon to write, anyway.


	13. Thou Age Unbred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From helveten: "hey I thought of a prompt for your sacrilege thing on ao3, maybe sth abt jesse growing old but cass still stays the same bc of his vampirism? and maybe not too angsty"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I generally excel with angst, so this was a fun challenge! Thank you! -13thDoctor

In Cassidy’s humble opinion, wrinkles were a thing of beauty. Jesse was not inclined to agree in the slightest, except when Cassidy used those wrinkles to place his kisses. At those moments, Jesse never seemed to have enough.

 

Ageing didn’t occur regularly for a vampire. Years of wear and tear eventually showed, but Cassidy’s body remained optimally in his thirties. Even as Jesse progressed into his mid-forties--a surprising achievement, Cassidy always said, considering the man’s shenanigans when he was younger--his lover brandished not a single imperfection.

 

“Vampire,” Jesse muttered dejectedly when he found his first grey hair.

 

“Human,” Cassidy teased fondly, sliding his hands around Jesse’s waist and meeting his eyes in the mirror.

 

Genesis was a nightmare of their past like Carlos was a nightmare of Jesse and Tulip’s past. She still dropped by their little house in Annville, brandishing whiskey and wild tales, and the boys listened happily, cuddling on the coach and reminiscing but not missing. She had made a life for herself, and often invited them on the road with her to carry out her revenge missions, but they declined. Well, perhaps a few times they accepted, but Cassidy harped on Jesse for weeks after a particularly rough skirmish about losing the one thing he had loved in a long time, and they called it quits from there.

 

They didn’t get married, but they lived like they had. As conservative as most Texans were, a majority didn’t mind that the preacher had a male partner. They were mostly just suspicious as to why Jesse was ageing and Cassidy wasn’t, at least outwardly. Eventually, the girls from Toadvine started asking him for skincare tips. He simply suggested avoiding the sunlight.

 

Jesse complained constantly about growing old. Cassidy reminded him that 119 years and counting was nothing to envy. “Besides, love, you’ve seen me uglier than a decrepit ol’ corpse. Crows feet ain’t changin’ how I feel about ya. An’ I never lie.”

 

Jesse snorted, but he was appeased. “Prove it,” he demanded, a smirk on his lips and bright mischief in his eyes. Cassidy didn’t have to be told twice.

 

When Jesse turned fifty, Cassidy celebrated that he was catching up to him. His consistent, unwavering optimism about Jesse’s age eventually overtook the preacher’s pessimism. He made pancakes every birthday morning, Tulip came over sometime in the afternoon so they could all take a day trip, and then Cassidy insisted they spend the rest of the night in the church and in their birthday suits.

 

Jesse Custer preached about love and forgiveness. His sermons ran with themes of age and wisdom, of compassion coming with the hard press of years on the human soul. Cassidy went every Sunday that he wasn’t hungover to the brink of death, and privately enjoyed them. But mostly he went to support Jess, and also to look at the preacher’s lips for a couple hours straight.

In Cassidy’s humble opinion, Jesse Custer was a thing of beauty. He loved every silver hair on his head and every age spot on his skin. Every aching joint and sore limb recalled a past of infinite hurts, so the vampire naturally looked forward to their future of infinite possibilities. Jesse Custer, young or old, was his, and he would keep him as long as he could, wrinkles and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from Sonnet 104 by William Shakespeare.


	14. Inside of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt "ALRIGHTY THEN!! Cassidy discovers he can see Jesse's bedroom from the attic, then proceeds to spy on him while his preacher is having some ''good time'' with himself (he would be looking through the ceiling/floor. You can see the ceiling when Jesse's ordering Cass to hop and all that"

Cassidy was finished feigning disinterest around Jesse. He had long since given up attempting subtlety; the preacher was simply too oblivious to his advances. Even overt requests--he’d asked if he fancied a shag, for God’s sake--were laughed off. Yet he found himself again waiting for the man downstairs in the church, plucking at random objects just to have something to do. Waiting, instead of being curled in his arms on a warm Sunday morning, doing anything but sleeping.

He sat a vase down with a sigh and watched the light dance off the glass. It cast strips of white to the walls, where a painting remained crooked since meeting Cass’ face. The vampire chuckled at the memory, wishing Jesse had ordered him to do some other things that day, too.

Cassidy walked to the wall and straightened the picture. He cocked his head as he listened to Jesse moving around upstairs, to the old wood of the church groaning under the preacher’s feet. It took a moment for him to register the shadows casting down from the floor above, filtering through the breaks in the rafters. He blinked.

Stepping forward until he was under the ceiling lamp, Cassidy glanced up. He could just make out Jesse’s form, pants hanging loosely as he undid his belt. Cass sucked in a deep breath and shook himself, grumbling curses as his face heated. He felt like a teenager again, spying through the vents into the bathroom when his brother’s girlfriends stayed the night.

He rubbed the side of his neck ponderously, tilting his head fully back. Jesse was nearly out of view, retreating farther into his bedroom, and Cassidy frowned. He cast his eyes around for a stool or wider opening, feeling desperate and more than a little silly. But he was not one to half-ass something, and Jesse’s naked body--well, that deserved his utmost attention and maximum effort.

Cassidy very nearly shouted when he realized the rafters were separated even more in the attic.

Taking two stairs at a time, Cassidy rushed to his temporary residence with a wicked grin stretched over his face. Something akin to giddiness made his nerves burn under his skin, spreading a sensuous warmth over his body. An acute yearning built in Cassidy’s stomach as he pressed himself to the attic floor, a space of less than six inches offering a relatively unobstructed view to the preacher’s skin, muscles, hands… Cassidy let his eyes linger, covetous and shameless.

Had Jesse been an average bloke, Cassidy assumed he would be bored. The preacher’s routine was banal; choose an outfit, fold the clothes carefully on bed, stare at the layout with his hands on his hips. But those hips were begging to have nails dug into them, and those clothes looked like they could be removed with Cass’ teeth. His cock twitched agreeably at the thought.

When Jesse pushed his boxers to his ankles and stepped out of them, Cass wasn’t sure if he wanted to wolf-whistle or whimper.

Pressing a hand over his mouth, eyes heavy as he stared, Cassidy pushed his hips into the floor with more force in an attempt to alleviate the pressure in his groin. Jesse turned back to the dresser below, naked body glowing in the morning sun. Cassidy fiercely wanted to feel that warmth on his preacher’s skin, chase the taste of the sunlight with his tongue. All the rush of stepping into the day with none of the fire.

Watching Jesse pull his red hoodie from the dresser and breathe in the scent before sliding his hand between his thighs, Cassidy thought maybe he was wrong. Maybe he would catch on fire. His skin felt scorched, too hot and blistering. Jesse walked slowly to his bed, hand ghosting over his abdomen and thighs, working himself up. He sat so his knees brushed the edge and then bent back, shoulders pressed into the covers. Cassidy could only gape, mouth dry and head reeling. He had worn that hoodie only two days ago and had not seen it since. It wasn’t as if he had worried about the thing since there was still plenty to take from the charity boxes, but it had been excellent skin protection. Now, though--now he never wanted it back.

Jesse’s hand was wrapped around his cock, thumb circling over the head as his wrist worked incessantly. Hips thrusting into his hand, Jesse writhed obscenely on the bed. His mouth was open in an inarticulate cry, muffled only when he brought the hoodie to his face. Breathing damp spots onto the fabric, the preacher gripped it tightly in his hand. His chest heaved as he moaned Cass’ name.

Cassidy knew there was a wet spot on his jeans, but he couldn’t pry himself from the floor. His body quivered with the effort of staying in the attic rather than rushing down to replace Jesse’s hand with his mouth, but still he remained. Cassidy hungered for Jesse in a way he didn’t know how to express, so he watched, and he waited.

When he came, Jesse pulled Cass’ hoodie to his chest like it was the man himself, drawing it closer as he palmed himself through the orgasm. His eyes were closed, his hand slick, his body flushed and soft and malleable. Cassidy’s lips parted, and his tongue pushed out absentmindedly.   


Cassidy stood abruptly, feeling somewhere between high and hungover. He made his way to the dirty mattress he called a bed, dazed and unbearably aroused. The sounds of fabric and a lighter clicking alerted Cassidy to the fact that Jesse was continuing his morning and would likely be downstairs soon, a cigarette in one hand and the other reaching into the fridge for the neck of a bottle. But Cass wanted those hands somewhere else.

In one fluid motion, Cassidy pulled his shirt over his head and balled it in his hands. With a smirk playing over his lips and one last glance into Jesse’s bedroom, he descended the stairs.

Hell, he’d walk around naked if it meant seeing that every morning.


	15. Lost in Translation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the prompt "i love the concept of cass talking too fast and using too many irish slang terms for jesse to understand him. prompt: cass trying to tell jesse how much he wants to fuck him, but jesse not getting a word"

Cassidy was piss drunk, more so than Jesse had ever seen him. The stumbling he could handle; Cass was all skin and sinew, a handsome collection of scars and tattoos and mystery. But every time the man tried to tell him something, the words were lost in translation. Jesse couldn’t comprehend even the connotation of the phrases, they were so garbled and hidden in Cass’ thick accent and drunken slurs.

“--an’ I was wonderin’ why ye kept dodderin’ on like,” he muttered into Jesse’s neck. It was followed by a high-pitched, wheezing laugh. Cassidy stumbled against him, forcing Jesse to snake his arm around the man’s waist to keep him upright. He smelled like cheap whiskey and bar smoke. The laughter continued until it became an incessant giggle, and then snorting as Cass tried to stop. Jesse raised an eyebrow.

“I can’t understand anything you’re saying, Cass.”

Cassidy looked nonplussed. “When do ye, huh? I’m tellin ye Padre, yer a handsome fella ye know, but ya been acting the maggot and ye know wha’? It’s ain’t any use, ye know? Sure like yer upstandin’ and whatnot, but hell preacher, cop on!” Gesticulating wildly, he almost threw Jesse off-balance. The preacher’s steps faltered as he reached to catch his friend again, fingers dragging along bare skin where Cassidy’s shirt rode up.

That stupid, wild grin came across Cass’ face once more, and then the raucous laughter started up again. Somehow, between trying to breathe and still cackle, the vampire found the ability to keep talking. Jesse missed more words than he caught--mainly because the words flew by so fast--but he wrote it off as drunken, delirious ramblings anyway. When he heard Cassidy say something about his fingers on his very cold, very pale skin, he assumed it was a complaint, and extracted himself accordingly.

“Ah, why you gotta do a thing like that?” Cassidy whined. He looked up at the sky inquisitively, eyebrows furrowed, as if it held all the answers to his abstract, inebriated questions. “Here I am, thinkin’ we’re ‘bout to sha--hey, tha’s the car, tha’ is.” A pause.

“When’d we leave the bar?”

His head rotated languidly as he took in his surroundings, face twisted in painful concentration while he attempted to recall their route here.

Jesse smiled indulgently. “Right after you tried to grab my ass and I figured you’d had enough.”

Cassidy smashed his chin into his neck and snickered, the sound coming from his mouth and nose alike. “Not a fan o’ that, were ya. Heh.”

Jesse laughed and shook his head, not gracing that inquiry with an answer. Cassidy probably wouldn’t remember a single minute of their conversation, anyway. The man likely couldn’t even recall half of their exchange in the last ten minutes.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” Jesse asked slowly, as if he was speaking to a child. Cassidy stared at him, squinting while he followed the shape of his lips. Then, he fell forward again, but stumbled away on his own this time. 

He was holding Jesse’s car keys and prancing about, his gangly limbs performing the most graceless dance the preacher had ever witnessed. His friendly taunts were loud enough that Jesse had to shush him, which only encouraged him. “Come and get ‘em!” Cassidy jeered, veering clumsily to the left. His oversized clothes were slipping dangerously with each exaggerated movement, and the keys’ clanking was attracting attention.

“Cass,” the preacher hissed, reaching for him again. A few onlookers chuckled and pointed, obviously much more amused than Jesse. Voice low, he urged, “Let’s get you home.”

“Ohh, Padre, don’cha use t’at… t’at on me, mm. I mean, maybe some other time, heh…” He lost his sentence to a fresh bout of giggles.

While he was distracted, Jesse lunged. It was only a few feet, but the man was slippery and determined, and the preacher had to push him against the car before he could finally stop him. He wrapped his arms around Cassidy from behind and gripped the pressure points on his wrists, forcing him to let go of the keys. They clattered to the hood as Cassidy jerked, all the alcohol keeping him from utilizing his true strength. Jesse held him there, hoping it would calm him down before they had to get in the car together and drive to their hotel room.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Cass finally yelled, turning suddenly to grip Jesse’s shoulders. His movements were clumsy, and he ended up pulling the preacher to his chest in a very awkward, one-armed hug. Jesse snorted.

Cassidy’s voice was soft when he spoke again. “I want ya, Jesse…” His voice trailed off in inarticulate mumbles, mouth working around barely audible sounds. Sighing, Jesse patted him on the back and moved them to the side of the car.

“I want you around, too,” he said, drawing back to look in Cass’ eyes when the vampire stopped a few feet short of the passenger door. He meant every word, but the other man’s brow furrowed like he was being ridiculed. The vampire’s whole face contorted, an embittered mess of a drunken inability to follow Jesse’s words and his own internal struggle to convey his meaning. Eyes narrowed and hands clenching and unclenching, he started various sentences that never finished: “No, want _you_ … Get off with… Get…” His eyes closed in frustration.

“Get home?” Jesse suggested, chuckling. “Get in the car, Cass.” He paced around to the driver’s side, jangled the keys mockingly, and then ducked inside.

Cassidy frowned at the sky, then at the purple door. He muttered a quick curse to their silly missing God and then folded himself into the passenger seat, meeting Jesse’s gaze with a crooked smile and a wiggle of his hips.

Jesse ducked his head and laughed, starting the car up and backing out of the space without taking his eyes off of his friend. Cassidy winked at him, biting his lip.

“You’re wasted.” Jesse laughed heartily and shook his head. He turned back to the road, a small grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Cass rolled his eyes and huffed. It was going to be a long ride back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations for anyone as confused as Jesse:
> 
> Dodderin' -- taken from "dodder," or "to waste time"  
> Acting the maggot -- "playing around"  
> Fella -- "man," but it's also used for "boyfriend," which was Cassidy's insinuation  
> Cop on -- "don't be stupid"


	16. Fix You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Request: A really angsty jessidy fic where Jesse breaks down because of everything and like tears man give me tears and Cassidy is the only one to comfort him and then angsty heart warming sex then cuddles
> 
> (Note: I put the cuddles before the sex, oops)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE HIATUS BEGINS and consequently there is more time to write  
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! And prompts are still open, lovelies.

Jesse often felt inhuman. Not inhuman like Cass, of course, but inhuman in the sense that he was only made of pain. Whoever had said that people got used to pain was a fucking imbecile. He never got used to the pain; he just made himself hurt more so the rest felt a little number. He hurt himself, he hurt others, he repeated.

 

Most days, he could take it. But sometimes he collapsed into bed after a few bottles of Ratwater and never wanted to get up. Sometimes he wanted to close his eyes, forget it all, and drown in liquor until he skidded right down to Hell where he belonged. Today was one of those sometimes, and he couldn’t even get dressed. Thank God it wasn’t a Sunday, or Emily would be in there dragging him out and chipping away the minuscule shreds of dignity and resolve onto which he was still desperately holding.

 

Someone else was with him, though. Someone else was lighting a cigarette and taking a slow drag before pressing his lips across Jesse’s and breathing that smoke into the preacher’s mouth. They were shirtless, but for comfort rather than anything sexual, an established and welcome intimacy. Jesse inhaled and let the nicotine burn through his lungs before he allowed to flee in a heavy sigh.

Cassidy stretched his arm out to the bedside table to discard the frayed cigarette in Jesse’s cheap rodeo ashtray and then returned, using his long body to pull his lover close. Jesse grumbled about being coddled before he relaxed into the other man, too tired and too hurt to bother stroking his ego. Pride could wait if the alternative was being held by Cassidy.

He stared up at the ceiling, counting too many cracks and holes and moldy spots. His damn church, his  _ father’s  _ damn church, was a piece of shit without any air conditioning and he couldn’t fix a thing about it. If he thought about it, he couldn’t fix many things, not his town and not his past, nor even his relationship with Cassidy. The vampire would be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid of Jesse sometimes; Jesse could see it in his eyes, see the way he flinched just a little more every time he went outside, especially on the steps of the church.

With the curtains drawn, even the hazy sunlight he usually allowed in was gone, replaced by a dollar store lamp Cass had hastily bought after he read about seasonal affective depressive disorder in the newspaper. The little light compelled the ghost of a smile across his lips.

“Wha’s that fer, Padre?” Cassidy asked quietly, placing a chaste kiss to the corner of his grin. “Not t’at I’m complainin’, mind you.”

Jesse’s smile grew and he burrowed into Cassidy, always surprised by the warmth of the vampire’s body. He didn’t answer, instead electing to breathe him in and calm his thoughts before speaking. Too many words floated around in his head, so loud inside, but never managing anything but silence when they finally reached the tip of his tongue.

“I’m just wonderin’ why you’re still here, Cass,” he eventually said, heart hammering as he did so. “What I did to you, that’s unforgivable.”

“Ah, ‘fraid not, Jess, ‘cause I’m here, ya see. Do blokes who don’t forgive ya usually cuddle ya wit’out any clothes on?”

Jesse scoffed amusedly and turned his face down. “When you put it like that.”

Cassidy nodded, confident in his answer. He kissed Jesse’s shoulder and giggled, wrapping his arms around his preacher once more. But Jesse didn’t feel like he deserved forgiveness, and certainly not from the man he’d let burn. He didn’t feel much at all these days except loathing and guilt and sorrow, all directed at himself.

“I just…” He couldn’t finish. The sentence, or apology, or whatever it was supposed to be, lodged in his throat. Suddenly, there were tears falling from his eyes, hot and fast, burning rivulets of agony down his tan skin. He gulped in a breath and tried to choke them down, but his insistence on their stop only made them worse, until his face was red with humiliation and anger and Cassidy was holding him so tightly it hurt.

“Oh, Jesus, Jesse, c’mere.” He kissed the spots beneath his eyes where the water trailed incessantly. “I’m always honest wit’ ya, alright? And I honestly, cross my wee heart and hope to die again, forgive ya and love ya, ya stupid bastard.”

“How?” Jesse gulped, searching frantically for some sense. “I wouldn’t. It’s vile, Cass, I’m a fucking monster. And this isn’t the worst of what I’ve done, not by a long shot.”

“Oi, don’t yer lord almighty recommend you preach mercy an’ all that? Mm?” He shook Jesse and then pressed their foreheads together, his words mere whispers. “Padre, you put me out, and I’m one-hundred percent no longer a crispy bloody nugget, so practice what you preach an’ all that and jus’  _ let it go. _ ” He opened his arms to exemplify all the negativity flying away, and Jesse scowled at him. Cass was right, just like he had been all along--most of the time, anyway--and Jesse was too arrogant to see it or acknowledge it. He wanted to punch something. Maybe Donnie.

Cassidy seemed to sense his retreat and growled in frustration, bumping their noses. He climbed on top of Jesse, holding his hands and kissing his fingers and scowling. “You,” he hissed between kisses, “are ta best t’ing. To happen to me. In this bloody town.” He stopped his trail to make eye contact, gaze warm and sincere. “ I’d die for ya.”

“You d--,” Jesse scoffed before Jesse yanked his chin and stole the words from his mouth, swallowed them up and bit the preacher’s lips for good measure. Then he licked over the wounds, laying gentle caresses on his lover’s bare skin with his hands in rhythm with his tongue.

Jesse moaned, hyper-aware of the vampire’s weight bearing down on him, the hardness of him a welcome reprieve to the usual burden on his shoulders. Cassidy kissed him languidly and lovingly. Gently, he pushed at the waistband of Jesse’s sweatpants, relieving the burning pressure already building between his legs. The preacher gasped as cold air hit him, but then a hot mouth replaced the chill and he arched his back, groaning. He threaded his fingers through Cassidy’s short hair, willing himself not to close his eyes as the vampire looked up at him, smiling even as he sucked.

“I wanna fuck ya. Uh, be inside ya,” he said when Jesse was spent, vision bleary in the haze in his pleasure. “If t’as okay.”

Jesse considered him for a moment. Stupid, stupid Cassidy, who had somehow ended up in Annville and gotten stuck to a two-bit preacher with a weakness for boys with filthy mouths. “Absolutely,” he answered without any doubt. “Whatever you want, Cass, yes. Yes.”

That crooked smile broke Cassidy’s face, and he kissed Jesse over and over while he fumbled for condoms in the bedside table. Jesse laughed as he contorted himself, desperately trying to find the things and still make out with his lover. He broke away for a moment and promptly returned with a cry of success that all of Annville probably heard. Jesse’s laughter never ebbed as Cass made a show of ripping the wrapper with his teeth, but when his boxer briefs vanished over the side of the bed, his eyes grew dark with hunger and his lungs could only expel pleas.

“Do you want me to turn over?” he asked, chest rising and falling quickly as he surveyed the expanse of pale skin and tattoos, every inch belonging to him.

“No. I wanna see you, Padre. I wanna--” He frowned, unable to find the right words, and then shrugged and reached down to slide on the condom. Jesse pulled his knees up, waiting.

“Any day now, Cass,” Jesse growled.

The vampire cackled and slowly rocked forward, teasing. When he finally entered him, it was with all the care and time in the world, and Jesse was going crazy. He called out and grasped at Cassidy’s face, running his hands over each angle and tugging at his hair. Cassidy grunted and pushed harder, establishing a steady pattern, undoing Jesse with his precise, calculated movements. It was so unlike Cass, so unlike all of the wild encounters they’d had, but he wasn’t complaining. It felt like a leap forward in their relationship, and it scared the hell out of the preacher, but he wasn’t running.

No, the feeling of Cass inside him, the feeling of their mouths sharing a kiss rather than battling for control over it, and the feeling of making love for the first time in years, he would kill again before he ran from that.


	17. Tell Me, Does it Hurt in a Different Way?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt "If you're still taking prompts: maybe some jessidy angst. Maybe one of them gets hurt because of something that the other did? "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously this is in the tags, but if anyone got here without reading every warning (I know there are a lot to go through at this point, which is both awesome and cumbersome): Warnings for some major homophobia. Deep South, Bible Belt, gay-bashing homophobia. It was hard to write. Proceed with caution.

Jesse supposed, really, that he had asked for this. Playing God, chasing Him--that was not a life without consequences. Even after Annville, he used Genesis with little regard for those, a smirk playing over his lips as he became a king in each town he, Cassidy, and Tulip stopped in during their almighty search. He was brash, and decidedly not preacher-like.

This came with expected unpleasantries, mostly from God-fearing locals who didn’t like the idea that their Lord was missing. On one memorable occasion, Jesse had been accused of witchcraft and chased down by a torch-bearing mob. Cassidy had not enjoyed that particular adventure.

_Cassidy._

Heaving a shuddering breath, Jesse dragged his friend’s body closer, trying to cover some of his wounds with his hands, torn fabric, anything. But the blood soaked through, staining Jesse and the ground a deep scarlet. There were people shouting around them, but they sounded like radio silence to Jesse. All his attention was on Cassidy, pale and listless in his arms.

Someone stepped forward, and Jesse’s head snapped up. His eyes shifted from gentle to cruel, and his voice was lethal when he ordered the crowd to stand back. They obeyed Genesis, perplexed as they retreated behind an invisible barrier. 

Jesse closed his eyes.

 

...

 

On their way to Florida, Tulip’s car had run out of gas outside a small town in Mississippi. Hattiesburg was unassuming and didn’t have nearly enough bars for the three of them, but it was the only option.

Jesse had agreed on the condition that Tulip get her own room in the motel. He was tired of pulling Cass away for a quick fuck in the car while Tulip was asleep, or into a gas station men’s room when they spent the night in the damn car. She had smiled but said nothing, offering a quick wink to Cassidy before going to pay for her room. Jesse did the same, but he followed it up with a hand on Cass’ belt and a whispered promise of what exactly he was going to do to him that night.

Cassidy had kissed him with a grin, biting Jesse’s bottom lip, making sure to let the preacher’s hand fall lower before turning away. Jesse let out a low whistle to make sure Cassidy knew he appreciated the view, sparing no concern for onlookers.

It was his first mistake.

 

...

 

Jesse  looked back down at the other man, face burning hot with anger. Cassidy was unconscious, deep cuts and sizable burns covering his body. Many of his ribs were broken, along with his nose and cheekbone. He had been beaten bloody, shot, and left to die in the woods. Tulip had found him in the morning only by his screams.

Though it had been the town’s inhabitants who had dragged Cassidy away--twelve of them, when Cass was thoroughly inebriated, enough not to fight back like he should have--he only blamed himself. Cassidy had killed just under half of them, healing him enough that he could drag himself to some sort of covering. But his legs had faced direct sunlight, and the remaining men had fled.

Steeling himself, Jesse stood.

 

...

 

“Easy there, Padre,” Cass slurred, eyes half-lidded and foggy. He licked salt from his hand for his--Jesse tried to count the shot glasses on the bar, but his vision was somewhat fuzzy-- _somethingth_ tequila. His hand was warm on Jesse’s thigh, eyes scanning up and down his body. The preacher laughed and leaned in, close, too close… “I need to fuck you.”

Loud, too loud.

The bartender spared a disgusted glance to the pair before shuffling away. Cassidy laughed and dragged Jesse to his feet, causing both of them to nearly topple over the bar. All Jesse managed was a quiet “Shoulda’ invited Tulip” before he rushed outside, knocking bar patrons and stools aside. He vomited what little he had in his stomach on the curb and settled uneasily on the parking lot pavement.

Cassidy cackled when he found his lover. “I’ll call ‘er then, hm?” Tears were present in the corners of his eyes. Jesse scowled, and then he groaned.

“Mm.”

 

...

 

Jesse hated himself for not staying when Tulip had arrived. She had dragged his sorry ass into the car after admonishing Cass for being worse of an influence than she was; he bowed haughtily in response. And then he’d asked to stay for a few more drinks, assuring them he could look after himself (“Look at these,” he’d boasted, flexing pathetically). And they’d laughed, and driven away, and now Jesse was looking at Cass' broken body at his feet and wondering why he was surprised. 

“Faggot.” Someone spat, nervously looking for support as they struggled against the barrier they still couldn’t explain. Some people grunted in agreement, eyes full of fire and filth. Jesse wanted to ask them all to do what they did to his lover tenfold until no one was left; they deserved it, he reasoned, God knew--

Biting his tongue, Jesse bent down enough to pull Cassidy to his chest. He stood with the other man in his arms. Divine intervention, he supposed, was not without its merit. And Hell, if he wasn’t remorseful when it came to the other--he hoisted Cass higher, running a bloodstained hand over his charred cheek-- _most_ of the consequences…

Well, why start?

“Kill each other,” he demanded evenly, pulse not even rising. Turning fearful eyes on one another, the men and women of the town complied.

As Jesse heard the slick sound of tires on grass and saw the approaching headlights, Tulip, and coolers of blood waiting for them, he smiled.

He had never felt closer to God.

 


	18. Take Care

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Cass taking care of sick Jesse and Tulip on the road. He has no idea what to do as he hasn't been sick for more than 100 years - basically, Cass trying to take care of the people he loves, having no idea what he's doing, but in the end, doing a good job.

Tulip O’Hare, as a rule, never got sick. She had told this to Jesse years ago when they knew everything about each other, and sure enough, the preacher had never seen the woman with so much as the sniffles. She was made of steel, that one, and a stubbornness that scared any disease away with one perfect scowl.

 

Jesse admitted to the occasional cold, but the hot Texas weather and his tendency to avoid any sick people--don’t want to get the church man sick now, he’d say--left him with only hangovers to keep him from standing up straight. Even with the mostly-liquid diet he had fallen into it and the late hours he was keeping, he avoided anything too nasty. Of course, faking sick when he was a kid to run around with Tulip and stay home from school was another thing, so he didn’t count that, and neither did she.

 

Cassidy used to get sick. A lot. Sickly little bastard, even without all the drugs and liquor in his system. Tulip handled the information well, handing Cass another beer bottle and giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. She’d seen her share of too-far-gone, of gutter rats and the illness inside that ate you away. Jesse, of course, grunted, “Figures,” before kissing Cass on the neck and going to take a piss inside the liquor store they had stopped near.

 

On the road, all they could do when faced with long stretches of highway was talk, and things got personal fast. But this was a safer topic after yesterday’s explosion about parents and family that resulted in Tulip punching the preacher in the face. He still had a bruise, Cassidy still chuckled about it when the two of them weren’t watching, and conversation topics had been censored to less-intimate tidbits for the while. Cassidy couldn’t remember who brought up the sickness thing, but there they were, and it seemed harmless enough.

 

“O’course, I’m excludin’ mornin’ sickness in this whole mess, but that wasn’t too bad for me, either,” Tulip said when Jesse was gone. Cassidy side-eyed her for her candor, sad and surprised all at once to hear her talk about it so nonchalantly. The comment seemed innocent enough, but Cass knew when someone was asking for comfort.

 

“There, there,” he teased, because Tulip was nostalgic, but also much stronger than her demons, and Cass was the last person who should be doing any comforting. “Lookee, you got me and Jess both beat on t’at front, t’en.”

 

“I sure as hell do,” Tulip replied fiercely. She took another swig from her own bottle and nodded toward the store. “At least you’ll never have to take care of him, ‘cause he’s a raging bitch without feelin’ like shit.”

 

Cassidy laughed and toasted her to that.

 

Two days later, they were driving through New Mexico when Jesse rolled down the window and basically heaved his guts out on the road. Cass had heard a lot of disgusting sounds in his life, mostly from himself, but retching in close quarters was something on its own level of wrong. Tulip swerved into the other (thankfully empty) lane, Cassidy cackled and threw his cigarette out with the mess, and then Tulip smacked him for littering.

 

“How’d you like it if I burnt you up and left you in the dirt in a pile of puke?”

 

“Dunno, never tried it.”

 

“Want to?”

 

“Any day, darlin’ dearest.”

 

“Call me that again and we’ll see how many teeth you got left after.”

 

“Could you motherfuckers shut up and  _ stop the car, _ ” Jesse growled, the sound instantly becoming a groan. Cass looked back at his boyfriend and frowned. He was ashen, clutching at his stomach with both hands and leaning his head outside to the cool air. “Too much to drink, love?” the vampire asked him, and Jesse just flipped him off in reply.

They stopped half a mile ahead Jesse tumbled out of the vehicle, clutching his hands over his mouth until he could stumble a few feet away and heave in peace. Cassidy lit another cigarette and regarded his lover warily. Jesse never reacted this way to alcohol, not even the shite Cassidy concocted when he was feeling bored or creative.

Jesse made a strangled noise and coughed a couple times. Cass took a drag before handing the stick to Tulip and walking over, careful to avoid breathing through his nose. “Jess, what’s goin’ on?” he asked, genuinely concerned. “T’is couldn’t ta been the tequila, hah? ‘Cause t’at bar was shady, but not  _ that  _ shady--”

The preacher wiped his mouth with a spare bandana he had taken to carrying around, and then cleared his throat, wincing when it stung. “No, uh, Cass, I’ve only ever felt like this once in my life.”

“Oh? Don’t make me worry ‘boutcha, Padre.” He failed to mention that he worried about Jesse about every waking hour of his life, figuring that was probably a little too far for the preacher when their first kiss had been only a couple weeks ago.

Jesse waved his concern away and instead focused his bleary eyes on Tulip. “Remember that summer my father led every prayer for a week in my name?”

“Yeah, ‘cause he thought you were dying,” Tulip answered casually. Realizing Jesse’s insinuation a bit later, her eyes went wide and she stepped far back. “Oh  _ no,  _ Jesse Custer, you can  _ walk  _ your way to the nearest hospital. No way.  _ No. Way. _ ”

Cassidy’s gaze flicked back and forth between the pair, a little jealous of the private memory, but also awfully distressed by the “dying” comment. It was a small comfort that said dying hadn’t actually occurred, but Jesse being that sick put the whole trio in trouble.

“Contagious, is it?” he asked them. Tulip nodded while Jesse made a vague gurgling sound that could have been a yes, though Cassidy had a sneaking suspicion it was simply the beginnings of another vomiting session.

Sure enough, Jesse held up a finger, doubled over. He retched on the side of the road until he could only cough up yellow mucus. Cassidy held his breath as he went over to rub soothing circles on the preacher’s shoulders, figuring it was the boyfriend-y thing to do. Arms crossed, Tulip scowled from afar, and Cassidy wondered if she meant it when she told Jesse to get lost for the time being. Judging by the way her lips pursed and foot tapped, it seemed likely.

“You look like shite, Jess.”

“Doin’ my best, Cass.”

Cassidy grinned. “You don’ ‘ave to work too hard, I reckon--” he started, and then lost the remainder of the compliment when Tulip threw up.

Jesse groaned, Tulip cursed loudly.  “I bet you that motherfucker picked that up in that nasty ass bathroom when you two--” She stopped abruptly, an odd look gracing her features as she vomited again. Cassidy took in his friends and all their disgusting, feverish glory. He jogged back to the car and opened all the doors. “Well… hop in,” he offered grimly, a little amusedly, as if resigning himself to the same fate despite his inability to catch ill.

Cassidy made sure Jesse’s stomach was clear--wouldn’t want to ruin Tulip’s beautiful car--before dragging Jesse and to the backseat. He sat in the driver’s seat and gestured for Tulip to ride shotgun. Jesse, laying across the backseat, truly did look despicable, all shivers and sweatiness and cold skin. Tulip certainly didn’t look much better; upon glancing at the woman, Cassidy saw she was ashen and weary. Sighing, he rested his head on the seat and croaked, “Where do you little shites wanna go?” He really couldn’t recall what to do when people were sick; it had been incredibly long since he’d been in the position to be a caretaker.

“Not a fucking hospital,” Tulip replied, looking green. “Those places give me the creeps.”

Cassidy’s mind whirred. Then what else was he supposed to do? “You took me to one--” he reminded her desperately.

“‘Cause you were  _ dying, _ ” she growled, and then rolled her eyes at him like it was obvious. The action seemed to make her dizzy, though, because she moaned and closed her eyes. Cassidy drove a little faster.

He parked at the nearest hotel and reserved a room with growing impatience. The desk clerk was a teenager with bad acne and an even worse attitude who seemed, if possible, higher than Cassidy. With Jesse wrapped under one arm and Tulip under the other, Cassidy wasn’t having any of the kid’s shit. So somewhere between threatening to and actually punching the kid, he managed to secure complimentary room service and directions to the nearest grocery store.

Cassidy didn’t want to leave Jesse and Tulip alone when they were so fucked up, but when he deposited them each on a bed, shivering and sickly, he figured they wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. “Sleep,” he suggested, then turned out all the lights, closed the door, and went to buy soup, because that’s what all the TV shows said to do.

When he got back, skinny arms weighed down by cans of generic chicken noodle and saltine crackers, Jesse was in the bathroom throwing up, so he checked on him first. The preacher was heaving, a miserable scowl on his handsome face. Cassidy dropped the bags on the bathroom counter and dropped to his knees to give him a gentle hug and feel his forehead. He was, unsurprisingly, burning up. “Yer real hot,” he teased, then kissed Jesse’s dry cheek.

“Shut up, Cass.”

Cassidy chuckled while he extracted himself from the cheap, uncomfortable tile floor. He grabbed the bags on his way out, reminding his boyfriend softly that dinner would be ready soon. As he pried open soup cans and ripped cracker wrappers, he glanced over his shoulder to see Tulip lying on her side on the bed, bathed in the hazy blue light of the hotel’s television set. Her eyes were unfocused, unseeing. Feeling a swell of pity, he heated the soup to the best of his and the shitty microwave’s ability and poured some in a pair of Styrofoam bowls. He put each on a tray with a sleeve of crackers and smiled foolishly at himself, feeling useful for once. Then he swept the lamp aside, tossed the Bible across the room, and put the soup trays on the middle table that stood crookedly between the two rickety bed-frames. Ah, the lap of luxury.

Jesse emerged some time later when Tulip was already sitting up. Tulip was sitting against the headboard while Cassidy fed her soup, coaxing her through each mouthful. Jesse raised his eyebrows.

Cassidy merely grinned crookedly by way of explanation and waved his arm to the other bed. “Well, ya best get over here too, Padre.” Jesse sighed. He seemed to tired to argue, and slid in under the covers. Cassidy patted his stomach adoringly.

  
Cassidy figured coddling the two people he loved most in the world wasn’t the worst way to spend his night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts are always open!


	19. Infirmary Blues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For bjtremike: In which the boys tell each other they love the other, with Cassidy finally telling Jesse because he thinks he's about to lose him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Season 2 premiere day!

Jesse had been in enough classic shoot-outs to know when one wasn’t going his way. All of the guns and fists were measurable. A right hook there leads to a jab here, easy enough to remember. When he wasn’t fighting with neighborhood kids, he was wrestling with Tulip, and she had been the best teacher he could have ever had. When his ego got the better of him, however, he started thinking  _ he’d _ gotten the better of her. So when Tulip suggested it had gone far enough, Jesse was very,  _ very  _ insistent that he could handle himself. That this was nothing. That they could win this.

Another bullet just barely missed Jesse’s face and he cursed, thinking that he couldn’t handle this one after all. Tulip was holding her own, of course, but Jesse was stuck behind the bar with an empty shotgun, a broken finger, and a useless vampire.

“What we’d do?” Cassidy slurred. His fifth glass of absinthe was half-drained but perfectly intact, as if a New Orleans bar fight had rules regarding the destruction of good spirits. Cassidy cackled, a slow sound followed closely by a hiccup, and then burped.

Jesse shook his head. “I dunno Cass, maybe they took offense when you punched the bartender in the face.”

Cass cracked a wide grin. He wiggled a little to the left, and right after a bullet whizzed through the counter and buried itself in the wall next to his shoulder. Cassidy’s eyes got wide as he pursed his lips and considered the little hole. “Nah,” he finally answered. “I t’ink it were the bloke who I kicked in the nuts.”

“When the hell was that?” Some guy went tumbling over the bar. Jesse heard Tulip shouting, the shattering of a couple bottles, and the stomping feet of reinforcements. So much for a nice night out before all the hardcore God-searching.

“Dunno.” Cassidy drained his absinthe in a messy gulp and tossed the glass out in the fray. Miraculously, it hit one of those goons in the back of his head. He howled and Tulip took the opportunity to knock him to the ground. Jesse, whooping delightedly, only registered Cassidy was talking again when he caught the word, “fag.”

“Wait, Cassidy, what did you just say?”

“Whenever you boys wanna help out, I’d appreciate it!” Tulip shouted. Jesse was pretty sure he answered, but he was drowned out by heavily-accented curses, guns firing, and The Dixie Chicks’ _Iko Iko_ on the radio.

He prompted Cass with a swift kick in the knee. Cassidy pouted for a bit before shrugging. “Bloke told me ‘e didn’ want no fag in ta bathroom wit him, so I kicked ‘im in the nuts.”

Jesse’s stomach lurched angrily. In New Orleans, of all fucking places, he had thought kissing Cass in public wouldn’t bother anyone. Bolstered by alcohol and already pissed about this elaborate--and frankly, excessive--bar fight, he jumped right out of his hiding spot and cleared the counter with his fists already swinging.

“Jesse, watch out!” Tulip screamed. The sound, raw and high and scared in a way he hadn’t heard in her voice in years, echoed in his ears as he sank to the dirty floor.

The preacher stared straight ahead for a few seconds before he could bring himself to look down at his stomach. Blood poured fast and hot over his fingers. It didn’t hurt yet. He wasn’t even sure how far the knife had gone in. He was just really pissed that the only person who’d managed to do him any damage was the idiot who’d brought a knife to a gunfight.

He figured it must look worse than it felt because it seemed to sober everyone. Tulip was released from the largest guy’s grip; his whole face was red with effort and there were bite marks up and down his beefy forearm. Tulip’s eyebrows were pulled down and she was sniffing as she raced over to Jesse.

“Tulip, your shoe’s missin’.”

“Jesse, shut the hell up.”

She laughed despite herself. Then, as calm as a hurricane, she whirled on their attackers and demanded the bartender call an ambulance. Shotgun Guy rubbed the back of his neck and explained sheepishly that someone had put a bullet through the phone. When Tulip began ranting about cell phones, another man--he had a black eye already, a nice and small circle exactly the size of Tulip’s clenched hand--told her there was no cell service in this bar.

A few bar stools were harmed in the making of that particular tantrum.

By the time Tulip was back to his side, an ice cold rag in her hand, she had basically turned a New Orleans dive bar into a church on Sunday. Everyone mumbled apologies as they passed Jesse, who was definitely dizzier than before. The guy who Jesse thought was named Ron placed a first-aid kit next to Tulip. “You patch him up, then we’ll get him to the ER, Miss Tulip,” he assured her.

Jesse thought that was all nice and Christian of them, but he was also coughing up blood and really wanted to hurt someone at this point. And-- “Where’s that useless boyfriend of mine?” he managed to ask. When he coughed, all the blood stuck in his throat splattered onto her nice white dress. He lost count of how many times he said sorry for that.

The room was spinning. Although that had been his goal at the beginning of the night, it had been with thoughts of burning alcohol and a few dances with Cassidy, not from a knife puncturing his skin.

“Jess?” He closed his eyes. Cassidy was far away and then we was pressed close, his skinny legs straddling Jesse’s hips while he put pressure on the open wound in Jesse’s abdomen. “Jaysus fuck, fuck, Jess. Fuck.”

“Mm, I’ve had worse,” Jesse murmured, but he wasn’t so sure that he had. He was sweating, and the blood didn’t want to stop flowing. Between the three of them, most of Jesse’s blood seemed to be on his present and past lovers’ hands rather than inside his veins. He chuckled.

“Oh, shut up,” Tulip snapped. The annoyed tone of her voice couldn’t hide the concern in her eyes, though. Jesse knew that look. That look usually happened on the way to the hospital, not this soon.

Cassidy kissed the middle of Jesse’s forehead. He leaned down, contorting at an odd angle, so he could whisper, “I love ya.” He waited. “C’mon Jess, don’t leave me. I love ya.”

Jesse tried to smile. Cassidy wouldn’t stop saying it; he couldn’t, not with Jesse’s blood spilling onto his ratty t-shirt and Jesse’s dark eyes going pale. Jesse never knew if he said it back (but God, how he wanted to) because the blackness swallowed him whole, and that was that.

“Welcome back, dumbass,” was the first thing he heard when he woke up. That and an array of whirring machines, some familiar beeping and the rustle of hospital gowns.

Opening his eyes felt like pulling a truck out of four feet of mud. When he finally did, he saw Tulip in her bloodstained dress standing at the foot of his bed. Cassidy sat in a wheelchair right by his side, holding his hand and also wearing a hospital gown.

Jesse laughed. It hurt, probably pulled at the stitches in the worst possible way, but he had to. Cass stuck his tongue out over his sharp teeth and squeezed his boyfriend’s hand tighter. “Ya didn’t t’ink I’d let ya be ta only one wit’ his arse hangin’ outta one of these, didja? T’as no fun.” Jesse and Tulip both rolled their eyes.

Tulip caught Jesse’s eye, nodded, and smiled. “I’ll… go get some coffee,” she interjected into the silence. Jesse and Cassidy never looked away from one another as they muttered thanks.

“I meant it,” Cassidy said before Jesse could even open his mouth. “I’m fucking in love wit’ ya, Jesse Custer. Shouldn’ta takin’ me ‘til you were dyin’ to say it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Cassidy answered, and crawled over Jesse into the bit of bed that wasn’t occupied. Jesse protested playfully as he did so, and then let him settle in.

“I love you, too, Cass. Shouldn’t have waited until now to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

Jesse grinned.  “Yeah.” He kissed the corner of Cassidy’s mouth and rubbed his thumb over his cheek. Cassidy hummed like a damn kitten, nestling into Jesse like he belonged there. Jesse was pretty damn sure he did.

**Author's Note:**

> Each chapter covers a different prompt, so warnings and tags will be added as necessary by chapter. Feel free to send more prompts to fuckyeahjessidy.tumblr.com!


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